AN ENGLISHWOMAN’S
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS
IN TROPICAL AFRICA:

BEING THE BIOGRAPHY OF GWEN
ELEN LEWIS, MISSIONARY TO THE
CAMEROONS AND THE CONGO

BY
GEORGE HAWKER
MINISTER OF CAMDEN ROAD BAPTIST CHURCH, LONDON
AUTHOR OF “THE LIFE OF GEORGE GRENFELL”

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAP

HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO

To
WILLIAM COULSON PARKINSON,
WHO HAS SERVED THE BAPTIST MISSIONARY SOCIETY
ON COMMITTEE FOR TWENTY-TWO YEARS, WHO WAS
SUPERINTENDENT OF CAMDEN ROAD CHURCH SUNDAY
SCHOOL WHEN GWEN ELEN THOMAS WAS A TEACHER,
WHO BECAME AND REMAINED HER TRUSTED FRIEND,
WHOM THE AUTHOR ALSO GLADLY CLAIMS AS FRIEND,
THIS BOOK IS
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.

PREFACE

In July, 1910, I was requested by the Committee of the Baptist Missionary Society to write the life of Mrs. Thomas Lewis of the Congo. I had shortly before arranged with Mr. Lewis to undertake the work independently; but it accorded well with his feelings and my own that it should be done under the direction of the Society which Mrs. Lewis had served for five-and-twenty years. Unfortunately the final decision was not arrived at until Mr. Lewis was on the point of returning to Africa, having already sent forward his wife’s journals and papers. Consequently, in executing my task, I have missed the great advantage of consultation with him. Chapters III., IV., V., and VI. only have received his revision.

When I asked him about materials, he replied: “If you can get hold of the Hartland letters, you will have almost all you need. Gwen wrote to one or other member of the family by every mail during all her missionary life, and told them everything about her work which was worth the telling.”

The Misses Lily and Alice Hartland were kind enough to place “the Hartland Letters” in my hands. The series was not complete, some letters having been destroyed, and a few lost. But the remainder constituted a great mass of most valuable material, and this book is largely based upon it. On September 12th I received from Kimpese a small trunk filled with Mrs. Lewis’s journals and papers; and meanwhile important parcels of letters were entrusted to me by the Misses Percival, Mrs. John Jenkyn Brown, and Miss Taylor. I am also specially indebted to Mrs. Percival, the Misses Hartland, and Mrs. W. C. Parkinson, for personal recollections, and for many suggestions and corrections.

The Rev. C. E. Wilson, B.A., General Secretary of the Baptist Missionary Society, has given me the freedom of the Mission House for the consultation of books and papers; and the Rev. Lawson Forfeitt has helped me in many ways, especially in arranging the illustrations, and in reading the proofs.

To these, and other friends whose names are mentioned in the text, I acknowledge my obligations with warmest thanks.

In the numerous passages selected from Mrs. Lewis’s letters, the reader will observe that the name of the correspondent is sometimes given. When no name appears it must be understood that the citation is from “the Hartland Letters.”

As my task neared completion I realised that I had been guilty of one grave omission. During more than twenty years of her missionary life Mrs. Lewis was in frequent communication with Mr. Baynes, her official director, whom she regarded also as a most dear and honoured friend. Yet so far as I remember, there occurs in this book but one incidental and oblique reference to Mr. Baynes’s esteem for her. Observing this I wrote to him, expressing regret for my default, and begging him to send me a few lines of appreciation of his friend. With prompt kindness he wrote the following letter, which contains what I wanted, with some embarrassing additions. My respect for him prevents me from cutting up what he has been good enough to write; and if I incur reproach for printing appreciation of myself, I must bear it meekly for his sake.

“My dear Mr. Hawker,—I am indeed most thankful to learn that you have undertaken to write a Memorial of the life and labours of my intimate and much-valued friend Mrs. Thomas Lewis, who gave herself with such whole-hearted consecration to the uplifting and enlightenment of the native peoples of the vast Congo Region of Central Africa, and whose name and labours will live for long years to come in the hearts and memories of those on whose behalf she toiled so lovingly and so cheerfully, and bravely endured such hardships and privations.

“I cannot help saying I know of no one who can tell the story of her consecrated life and labours so sympathetically as yourself, her beloved Pastor and her valued friend and adviser. Her name will ever be associated with your Church at Camden Road, from which have gone forth so many heroic missionaries and martyrs whose one desire it was to bear to the benighted peoples of Central Africa ‘The Light of Life,’ counting it highest privilege to tell out the Story of His Love, Who though He was rich for our sakes became poor.”

“For many years I had the joy of intimate friendship with Mrs. Lewis, and a more devoted, consecrated missionary I have never met. It is a great satisfaction to me that you have undertaken to write the story of her life and labours, and I trust that as the result many may be led to follow in her footsteps, who shall realise in doing so a joy akin to that which inspired her to the end, and described in her own words:—

“‘No toil so sweet, no joy so deep as following in His footsteps who gave Himself for us.’

“‘Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.’

“With sincere regard,

“Yours as ever,

“Alfred H. Baynes.’

May the good wish of one who has been a great helper of the cause of Foreign Missions be graciously fulfilled.

GEORGE HAWKER.

Anson Road, N. 1911.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

WEST CENTRAL AFRICA showing KAMERUN (CAMEROONS) and THE LOWER and MIDDLE CONGO

Bartholomew, Edinʳ

Baptist Missionary Society’s Stations thus S. Salvador

CHAPTER I
EARLY YEARS

Gwen Elen Thomas was born in London, and resided in the metropolis until the call of Africa drew her across the sea. She never lived in Wales, save during brief holiday visits, yet the Principality had its rights in her character and career, and a cherished place in her natural affection. Her father was a Welshman, and her husband was a Welshman. All her life long the beauty of the western hills glimmered through the dear home talk; she was passing happy in her occasional holiday sojourns among them; and often, when spent by labour in the torrid heat of Africa, longed for wings which might bear her away to some bracing mountain height in Wales.

Her father, George Thomas, was born at Maentwrog, to fair-seeming prospects; but his sky was soon overclouded by dire bereavement, and his life was much acquainted with adversity and disappointment. His father, Griffith Thomas of Maentwrog, early held a good position as “Crown Agent for the Woods and Forests of North Wales,” and married a woman whom he loved with intense devotion. Several children were born of the marriage, but at the birth of the youngest the mother died. Two years later her husband was laid beside her in the grave. It was commonly affirmed that the death of his wife shattered him, and that he died of a broken heart.

The heads of this plaintive little story are inscribed, with customary brevity, upon a tombstone in the graveyard of the church at Maentwrog, and read as follows:—

“To the memory of Jane, wife of Griffith Thomas of Maentwrog, Gent. She departed this life on the 21st day of September, 1811, aged 37 years. Also of the above-named Griffith Thomas, died on the 10th day of September, 1813, aged 34 years.”

The young orphaned children were taken charge of by relatives, and George was brought up by his grandmother.

At the age of eighteen, or thereabouts, he came to London to seek his fortune, and obtained a position in Finchams’ Tea Warehouse at Charing Cross. Some years later he met a young lady, Anne Clarke, at an evening party and resolved, precipitately, that if he ever married, she should be his wife. His affection was subjected to the test of time. Three years elapsed before he secured an engagement, and four more ere he carried off his bride.

Anne Clarke was the daughter of George Rix Clarke, a Suffolk man, who wrote a history of Ipswich, which is still esteemed by antiquarians and topographers. In middle life he married a Scottish girl of seventeen, and Anne, their first child, was born at her mother’s home in Edinburgh. The china bowl used at her christening is a treasured possession of the family.

Four children were born to George and Anne Thomas, of whom Gwen Elen was the third. At the date of her birth, January 28, 1853, her parents were residing at Albion Grove, Barnsbury, in comfortable circumstances. They had previously become associated with the Baptist Church worshipping at Providence Hall (now Cross Street), Islington, under the pastorate of the Rev. John Jenkyn Brown, who was subsequently well known to the Nonconformist world as “John Jenkyn Brown of Birmingham,” and who in 1882 was President of the Baptist Union of Great Britain and Ireland. Mrs. Thomas was received into the fellowship of the Church at Islington. Her husband, though a man of pronounced evangelical conviction, was restrained by invincible compunction from ever assuming the responsibility of Church membership. None the less, a warm friendship subsisted between him and his minister, which was maintained through all the changes of following life. When he died, his daughter, Gwen Elen, looked to Mr. Brown with filial affection which was warmly answered, and it is significant that upon the occasion of her marriage, he came from Birmingham to London to fulfil the paternal office of giving the bride away.

While Gwen Elen was still in early childhood the family fortunes sustained a severe reverse. Her father, who was in business as a Scotch agent, was the victim of a fraudulent transaction, and the loss entailed was so heavy that his business was ruined. There followed years of struggle and vicissitude. During part of this period the family resided at Fulham, but before Gwen had emerged from childhood, they returned to the north of London and became connected with the Baptist Church at Camden Road.

One suggestive glimpse of her child-life comes down to us. Gwen and her younger brother Herbert, who were great chums, used to sit together, under the dining-room table, reading stories of Moffat and Livingstone. Years afterwards, when they were both still quite young, and the missionary interest at Camden Road Church had become acute, Herbert said one day to his sister, touched surely by the spirit of prophecy: “Gwen, you had better marry one of these missionaries, and I will come out and be your lay-helper.” The forecast was only realised in part. Gwen did marry a missionary, but before that came to pass, at the early age of nineteen, Herbert died.

In these days the Church at Camden Road was a strong and flourishing community, and by way of becoming yet wealthier and more influential. The sanctuary was erected in 1854 by the Metropolitan Chapel Building Association, and at first stood in the fields. But the tide of building soon swept beyond it, and the surrounding district became the kind of suburb in which a Nonconformist Church enjoys conditions favourable to success. In 1857 the congregation invited the Rev. Francis Tucker, B.A., of Union Chapel, Manchester, to become its minister. He accepted the invitation, formed a Church, and commenced a period of service, honourably and successfully maintained for twenty-seven years. Mr. Tucker was a man of winning personality and sympathetic manners. As a preacher he possessed commanding advantages; his musical voice was managed with consummate skill; he was master of refined, poetic diction, was gifted with imagination, and swayed withal by fervent evangelical conviction. Moreover, having held for a short period a missionary pastorate in Calcutta, his interest in the foreign work of the Church was enlightened and intense.

As a child Gwen Thomas passed under the influence of this estimable man, an influence which waxed but never waned until the day of his death. It is touching to recall that upon one occasion when she was recovering from a severe attack of fever at the Cameroons, and tormented by insomnia, her restless mind was haunted by the thought that if only Mr. Tucker could come and read to her she would be hushed to sleep.

While yet a girl her heart was given to Christ, in surrender which knew no recall, and at the age of eighteen she was baptized by her beloved minister and welcomed into the fellowship of the Church. It was at this time, or perhaps a little earlier, that she became a teacher in the Sunday School, which she had attended as a scholar for several years. Owing to circumstances, her secular schooling had been somewhat irregular, but she was fortunate in its finishing stage. It was the day of “Private Schools for Young Ladies,” now almost obsolete, and one of the best establishments of this order was conducted in Hilldrop Road by the Misses Hewitt. The school was distant from Camden Road Church less than a hundred yards, the principals were members of the Church, and were women of high character and adequate attainments. Their school was held in great repute in the district, and their influence was a social factor of happy moment. That the Misses Hewitt were able to command the esteem and affection of their pupils is pleasantly evidenced by the fact that, though the school has been discontinued for years, “The Hilldrop Old Girls’ Club” still exists, and it will interest readers of this book to be informed that the last annual issue of The Hilldrop Magazine, the organ of the club, contained an “In Memoriam” article on Gwen Elen Lewis. To the pages of this magazine she was an occasional contributor.

At the age of nearly sixteen she entered the Hilldrop school, and for about a year enjoyed advantages which greatly improved her equipment for the battle of life. Like many of her fellow pupils, she became warmly attached to her teachers, and the ensuing friendship was only broken by her death. I am happily indebted to Miss Amy Hewitt for the following paragraphs. Confessedly unable to supply incidents, Miss Hewitt has conveyed impressions which are as vivid as they are helpful:—

“It is many years since she was a school girl, and the lapse of time has naturally robbed my memory of all but the most startling individual happenings in our professional experience. Moreover, Mrs. Lewis was not the sort of girl to make dramatic school history. High souled, law abiding, and very conscientious, loving knowledge for its own sake, and eager to make the most of her advantages, she was an ideal scholar.

“Coming into an atmosphere thoroughly congenial to her temperament, she settled happily at once, and though she has since said that the influence of the few months spent as a daily pupil at Hilldrop Road was amongst the most permanently formative of her life, there was nothing at the time to distinguish her from a set of like-minded young girls who were her companions, and some of whom became her life-long friends.

“Though I have no definite facts to communicate, my impressions of her personality and character remain undimmed. I remember that as Gwen Elen Thomas she entered our school on October 12, 1868, a short, plump, fair, blue-eyed girl of sixteen, whose slight guttural accent, even without the additional hint of her Welsh name, would have suggested her nationality. Her bearing was self-contained but alert. She was there—her individuality well developed; and she was there, with all her faculties alive to receive and to give out influence. That was the first superficial impression.

“Later on we became familiar with, and learned to love, the serious, intent face, the steady penetrating glance, and the quick sense of humour, which on the slightest provocation lighted up her countenance with fun, and moved her to hearty laughter. She was keenly interested in her studies and brought to bear on them strong intelligence and powers unusually mature for her age.

“Monsieur de Lamartinière was at that time our French master, and Gwen Elen greatly delighted in his lessons. She had been thoroughly well grounded in the language, and so was prepared to profit by advanced lessons; and she made very rapid progress.

“Gifted and eager, she never seemed to find any subject dull or distasteful, but, as was natural to one of her sympathetic and deeply religious character, History, Literature, and Scripture particularly, attracted her and brought her original mind into play.

“The splendid endowments of heart and head which made her so good a pupil were given unstintedly to her missionary work, and it was with great delight that we heard from time to time of her wonderful success in Africa.”

One of her fellow scholars at the Hilldrop School was Emily Smith, daughter of Mr. Jonas Smith, a deacon of Camden Road Church, and between these two girls there grew up a warm and helpful friendship. They prepared their lessons together, and entered with girlish ardour into each other’s interests. In course of time Gwen Thomas became a frequent visitor at her friend’s home. And that it was a genial, hospitable home, there are not a few who could bear grateful witness. When her own mother died, the Smiths loved her the more for her sorrow, and for the filial devotion she had displayed; and how the friendship was maintained, and how Annie Smith a younger daughter followed her into the mission-field, will appear as this story proceeds.

And now something must be said of a man whose influence upon the life of Miss Thomas was not less than that of her minister, though he was her senior by a few months only. Thomas J. Comber was a member of the Baptist Church at Denmark Place, Camberwell, of which Dr. Charles Stanford, of gracious memory, was the gifted honoured minister. The love of Christ and the passionate desire to be a missionary of the Cross came to Comber in his early youth. While yet a lad, he became a Sunday-school teacher at Denmark Place, and was barely nineteen when he entered Regent’s Park College to gain equipment for his ordained career.

It is more than a convenient Sabbath day’s journey from Regent’s Park to Denmark Place, and so it fell out that in his student days Comber became a frequent worshipper at Camden Road. He loved children, was keen for any kind of Christian service, and soon found an opening in the Sunday morning infant class. It occurs to me to remark, in passing, that he is the only theological student of my remembrance who ever found himself effectually called to this modest sphere of labour. And I am tempted to add that if there be aught of disparagement in this reflection, it is not of the sphere.

His increasing interest in Camden Road Sunday School, and his zeal for the spiritual welfare of the scholars, led him to request permission to conduct a week-evening children’s service. Camden Road Church has always been reasonably conservative, and the proposed innovation was not acceded to without demur. But Comber, thus early, was not a man to be deterred from treading any path which seemed to him the path of duty, because certain excellent people might be in doubt of its expediency. Hesitating, dubious folk are apt to draw aside when one appears who will not be denied, and Comber had his way. The service was instituted, and spiritual forces generated by its means are working to-day.

The early hour of the children’s meeting made it difficult for young men to attend, and Comber’s helpers were at first exclusively drawn from the teachers on the girls’ side of the school; and now and then he was twitted by the remark that all his lieutenants were girls. But he was too much in earnest to be perturbed by a gentle gibe, and in the course of a few years the pleasantry would seem a feeble thing, in relation to a man who had proved himself, under heroic conditions, to be a resolute, virile, and resourceful leader of men.

Meanwhile if his lieutenants were girls they were of the right mettle, believed in him implicitly, admired him profoundly, backed him bravely in his Christian endeavours, and were destined to remain his warm friends as long as he lived. Gwen Elen Thomas was one of them, and among others associated with her in this service were Miss Emily Smith, Miss Rosa Nodes, who played the harmonium, and Miss Emily Pewtress, daughter of Mr. Stephen Pewtress, deacon and secretary of the Church.

Comber believed profoundly in child conversion. He set himself to bring about early and intelligent decision for Christ, and his purpose was honoured of God. There were many such decisions, and in course of time there was a goodly list of children who simply but credibly affirmed their personal faith in Christ. These Comber wisely accounted babes in Christ, who needed nursing, and as many of them were girls, some, fourteen or fifteen years of age, he concluded that their own teachers were fitter for the business than himself. So he called his four lieutenants together and informed them that these young converts must be divided up into classes, of which they must take charge. In the course of his instructions concerning procedure, he said that each little meeting must be commenced with prayer. They were dismayed. No one of them had ever engaged in prayer with a human audience; the thing could not be done. Practical and gently autocratic, he bade them meet together and make their first attempts among themselves. They were obedient, and the work went on according to the leader’s plans.

Though Comber did very well with his young women helpers, it was all joy to him when one of the teachers from the other side of the school joined him, and shared his labours in the conduct of the services. Of John Hartland, now entering the story of Miss Thomas’s life, much will be written in the next chapter. Suffice it to say at this point that he stood beside Comber in his work among the children at Camden Road, conducted it after Comber had sailed for the Cameroons, joined him later on the Congo, and died in his arms, having won from him a love as deep and tender as that he gave him.

Comber now had a man lieutenant, and had need of him. For though the majority of his weekly audience may have been girls, there were always boys present, and of the importance of his work among the boys the following letter from Mr. S. Leslie Pewtress yields convincing and beautiful evidence:—

“My remembrances of these services for children conducted by Mr. Comber at Camden Road are very hallowed ones. I was quite a lad, but can distinctly recollect how the talk in our home ran that he was a very brave young student to attempt them, and very persevering to get permission to hold them, in spite of much opposition and cold water.

“There was no Band of Hope then. For children there were occasional magic lanterns, annual Sunday-school meetings, and a composition and an elocution class for young fellows—also a singing class. But Mr. Comber’s meetings were so different from all these. I felt as I entered the room that there was a holy purpose in it all. Coming, as Mr. Comber did, from outside, having no relatives or friends in the place, he seemed to me a direct messenger from God. I had a strange awe of him that he dared speak as he did, and yet I rejoiced that he could. I wish I could recall the hymns we sang. They seemed very special at the time I know.

CAMDEN ROAD BAPTIST CHURCH, LONDON.

(Photo: F. Thurston, F.R.P.S., Luton.)

“Mr. Comber made a practice of standing at the door and saying goodbye to us as we went out. I tried to avoid him if I could, and being one of the bigger lads he let me pass many times. One night, however, he took my hand somewhat diffidently, and as he said good-night, added, ‘Do you love the Lord Jesus?’ I was quite dumb with emotion. I can feel the appealing look with which I lifted my eyes to his face and met his kindly loving eyes, even now. Then I broke away and hurried home to my bedside, where, on my knees, the tears streaming down my cheeks, and in utter silence, my heart poured itself out to God in longing desire to be a better boy. It was my first conversion, the first yielding of heart and will to God I ever made.

“Mr. Comber never knew. He said no word to me at later meetings. What he thought of my rudeness and coldness I do not know. I fear I hurt him a little, but he never resented it. His later work, especially as a missionary, was always shaming me to myself, while he has always been to me the ideal Christian young man, and hero. But when I look at his photograph it is always to the children’s services that my thoughts are carried back.”

The writer of this letter, who, to my personal knowledge, has been for five-and-twenty years a cultured, devoted, and successful Christian worker among children and young people, would probably be in agreement with one of Comber’s four helpers, already named, who recently told me that he was unquestionably one of the strongest personal, spiritual forces she had ever encountered in a lifetime of Christian service.

That this man exercised a formative and dominant influence upon the life of Miss Thomas, during the years of their association, is a statement that needs no other proof than that afforded by the facts, that she began her missionary career in his tracks upon the Cameroons; spent three-and-twenty years of her life in the great Congo field, which he and Grenfell opened up for the Baptist Mission; and, as long as she lived, continued to speak of him with reverent affection.

In certain regards Comber and Miss Thomas were greatly unlike in temperament, yet had they much in common of gravest moment. The love of Christ was the grand passion of both their lives. They were both endowed with indomitable will and the consequent capacity for sustained industry. They both loved and understood children, possessed the saving grace of humour, and, devoutness notwithstanding, took innocent and wholesome delight in fun.

I met Comber several times during his last furlough, but my visual remembrances of him are restricted to two living pictures, typical and contrasting, which I will endeavour to call up before the mind of the reader. A children’s party is in course at the house of Mr. Jonas Smith. The company is gathered in the drawing-room, and consists of twenty or thirty children of varying ages, with a sprinkling of benevolent elders. Comber is at the piano, singing, to his own accompaniment, a humorous song. The accompaniment is mimetic as well as musical. Every feature of his mobile face, roguishly turned to his audience, and every muscle of his lissom body, seem to move in concert with the fun. When it is over and he is about to leave the instrument, he is stormed by overwhelming numbers, held to his place, and coaxed and coerced into singing again.

Three months later I find myself sitting in the area of Exeter Hall. This time it is not a children’s party which is in course, but the Annual Meeting of the Baptist Missionary Society. The Hall is crowded in every part, and in the middle of the platform stands a young man, with a keen, clean-shaven, boyish-looking face. The great hushed throng is mastered by the speaker, who is none other than the singer of the laughing song. He does the storming this time, and he has his way with the hearts of his audience. There have been heavy losses on the Congo. Counsels of retreat have been urged. What has Thomas Comber to say about it? He has the right to speak. He is a lonely man. His young bride has lain for years in a Congo grave, and the Congo grave of his brother, Dr. Sidney Comber, is newly made. Yes, surely he has the right to speak! What has he to say? Even now after four-and-twenty years I can see the flame of passion kindling in his face as he pleads that he and his brethren may be spared the shame, and the cause of Christ the wrong, which would be involved in retreat. Would they bid Grenfell back, whose exploits he praises and whose gallant words he quotes? It is unthinkable. That speech made history. Counsels of retreat died into silence. “Forward,” not “Backward,” became the order of the day.

Such are my two distinct remembrances of the man, whom the children at Camden Road loved as a teacher, admired as a hero, and romped with as a playmate; whom the Congo natives, when they came to know him, regarded as a miracle of love and power; and whom his comrades followed as a captain whose belt has been buckled by the fingers of Almighty God.

During the years of Comber’s memorable service at Camden Road, Miss Thomas lived at home with her parents. Her mother was a woman of gentle, retiring disposition, who permitted herself to be absorbed by domestic interests, and was remarkable for an inexhaustible patience, which her daughter Gwen inherited, to the great advantage of her own soul, her comrades, and her work. Mr. Thomas was a man of keen intellect and independent outlook, who was wont to talk freely with his children about books and men and movements of the day, and whose conversation was an educative influence of major importance.

On Christmas Eve, 1876, Miss Thomas sustained one of the great bereavements of her life, in the passing away of her mother, long an invalid, to whom her filial attention had been unremitting. Three months earlier, in September of the same year, she, with many others, had said “goodbye” to Thomas Comber, who sailed for the Cameroons. The Children’s Service Valedictory Meeting at Camden Road was at once sorrowful and enthusiastic. The young folk were grieved to lose their leader, but loyal enough to be glad that he was going to the great work marked out for him by God. A testimonial address, headed “Mizpah,” was presented to him by John Hartland, in the name of the children who had signed it, together with a magic lantern, for which they had subscribed; and promising faithful, affectionate, and prayerful remembrance, Comber passed on his way.

Of course, he continued to correspond with his young friends, and by way of augmenting their interest in his work, suggested that they should support a mission boy. The suggestion was adopted, and a scholars’ working meeting was instituted by Miss Gwen Thomas and Miss Emily Smith, to raise the necessary funds. It was a modest enterprise at the beginning. The first sale was held in a corner of the schoolroom, with goods displayed upon a single table. Later a second corner was annexed, and a second table furnished. Later still Mrs. Jonas Smith took practical interest in the undertaking, a “Ladies’ Missionary Working Party” was formed, and so on, until the whole Church became involved in the business of “The Camden Road Congo Sale,” which at one period ranked as a Denominational Institution.

The Annual Sale is still maintained, though in modified form, and in the course of its history has contributed to the funds of the B.M.S. some £3,000, more or less. Mrs. Lewis loved “The Congo Sale,” was often occupied with its business when on furlough, had the honour of opening it more than once, when the opening had become a function, and talked of it when she lay a-dying.

Miss Alice Hartland remembers that at the early working meeting Miss Thomas used to read to the children as they sat sewing, “The Life of Robert Moffat.” Naturally Robert Moffat was one of her heroes, and many years later she wrote, in a passage which I propose to quote, that Mrs. Moffat was her ideal of what a missionary’s wife should be. Happily, by the grace of God, she lived to realise her ideal, in marked degree, and to create a new one for others who may follow in her steps.

One pathetic family incident relates itself to this children’s working meeting shortly after its inception. In 1868 Miss Thomas’s elder sister, Eliza Jane, was married to Dr. Richard Percival, and some three years later accompanied him to St. Lucia, West Indies, where he had secured a medical appointment. His health failed, and after a short stay he was compelled to return. There were three children of the marriage, Ethel, Eva, and Beatrice, whose names will often appear in this book. But their father’s health was never strong, and in 1877 he was lying ill at St. Leonards. Two of the children were staying with their Aunt Gwen, and on Saturday afternoon were taken by her to the Working Meeting. While engaged in the meeting she received a telegram bidding her bring the little ones to the bedside of their dying father. They were taken immediately, and shortly afterwards he passed away.

CHAPTER II
BETROTHAL, BEREAVEMENT, AND DESIGNATION TO THE CAMEROONS

Comber began his missionary life at Victoria, the colony founded by Alfred Saker as the new home of the little Protestant community, driven from Fernando Po by the intolerance of the Roman Catholic authorities. Victoria was situated on the shore of Ambas Bay, and at the foot of the Cameroons Mountain, which Comber climbed one day, finding at the top the bottle left there by Captain Burton, an exploit which led to a pleasant interchange of compliments at a meeting of the Royal Geographical Society in London.

Not long after his arrival Comber was left in sole charge of the station, and threw himself into the work with characteristic zeal. Grenfell, meanwhile, was working at Bethel station on the Cameroons river. Subsequently the two were thrown much together and formed a friendship which was of happiest omen for the cause of Christianity in Central Africa. Both of them turned with longing eyes to the interior, yearning for work among heathen tribes whose original depravity had not been complicated and deepened by imported European evils. But their dreams of local extension were broken by the call to the Congo.

Stanley’s historic journey “Through the Dark Continent,” in the course of which he proved that the Lualaba River and the Congo were one and the same stream, and the opportune munificence of Mr. Robert Arthington of Leeds, whose inspired guess had anticipated the explorer’s discovery, made a new departure in the work of the Baptist Mission at once possible and obligatory. I have told the story of this new departure at some length in “The Life of George Grenfell,”[1] and must here compass the matter in a few rapid sentences.

The Committee of the B.M.S. realised that in Comber and Grenfell they had men who were providentially raised up, endowed, equipped, and placed, for the new enterprise. On January 5, 1878, the young missionaries received the expected invitation to undertake a pioneering expedition in the Congo region. Their assent was instant and enthusiastic, and while awaiting final instructions they made a flying visit to the lower reach of the Congo, and laid some stepping-stones for future use.

Encouraged by their reconnoitring experiences, they returned, completed their preparations, sailed from Cameroons on June 28th, and early in August were in San Salvador, the capital of the ancient kingdom of Congo, making friends with the king. They felt their way a stage or two further on toward Stanley Pool, but encountering obstacles, realising the imperative need of reinforcements, and being profoundly convinced of the feasibility and the obligation of the new enterprise, they went back upon their tracks, Grenfell returning to the Cameroons, and Comber coming to London to tell his story and to ask for men. He got them in the persons of Holman Bentley, Harry Crudgington, and John Hartland.

Hartland had long cherished in his heart the desire to be a missionary, but the way had never opened for him to secure the college training which seemed to be necessary, and so his desire had remained his secret, discussed only with his sister. But Comber’s appeal so stirred him that he could not restrain himself longer. On returning from a meeting of the Young Men’s Missionary Society, held at the Mission House, he wrote to Comber in these terms:—

“I have longed, I have prayed to go, and have often cried, ‘Here am I; send Me’; but I have never yet felt that He was sending me, and I dare not go alone. But to-night you said you wanted to take back with you to Africa one or two men at once. The preparation for mission work was always my obstacle, but if the men you need are men ready to dedicate themselves, as they are, and at once to the Lord’s service—if the only preparation needed is the preparation of the Holy Spirit; if the wisdom needed is that wisdom promised to those who ask; if the sufficiency is not a college education, but the sufficiency which is of God—I cannot, I dare not hold back.... My mind is fully made up, that if you will accept me (and you know what I am, I have no need to introduce myself to you), as a fellow-helper in the Lord’s work, and if the Society will take me as one of their workers, I am ready this day to consecrate myself to the Lord.”

Comber’s joyous answer was: “Apply at once.” The application was duly made and accepted, and on April 26, 1879, John Hartland, to his heart’s desire sailed with Comber, Bentley, and Crudgington for the Congo. He was known at Camden Road, as a quiet, rather nervous, good young man, and probably none, save two or three who knew him best, supposed that he had in him the making of a capable, heroic, missionary pioneer. But he had. And in quiet station work at San Salvador, in adventurous journeys in which he shared attempts to find a practicable way to Stanley Pool, and in the heavy subsequent labour of establishing a line of communications for the traffic of the mission, and especially for the transport of the steamer Peace, he exhibited readiness of hand, resource of brain, and devotion of spirit, which elicited the unstinted admiration and affection of his colleagues. That he could write vividly is sufficiently proved by the following extract from a long and profoundly interesting letter wherein he tells of an experience which almost made an end of Comber’s career and his own:—

“We walked into the town (Banza Makuta) and asked the people its name, but got no answer. They drew back a little, and then one man called out, “Nda bongo nkeli, vonda mindeli!” (“Fetch the guns; kill the white men!”) and in an instant they rushed away returning immediately armed with great sticks, huge pieces of stone, knives, cutlasses, and guns, and without any word of palaver, commenced dancing and leaping round us, and brandishing their weapons. Mr. Comber sat down by a house, and I was about to do the same, but our assailants yelled out, “Get up, get up,” and rushed upon us. Such fiendish, blood-thirsty, cruel countenances I never saw. We got up and called to them to stop, that we would go back, but it was no good, and stones came flying towards us, and sticks and knives were brandished around us. We could see the people were determined, not only to drive us from the town, but to have our lives, so there was nothing left for us to do but to attempt flight, though it seemed hopeless. Away we started, amid stones and blows. We all got hit and bruised, but managed to reach the top of the steep hill, when a sudden report rang out behind us, above the uproar, and Mr. Comber, who was in front of me, fell. I dashed up to him and tried to assist him to rise, but he said, “It’s no use, John; I’m hit, you go on.”

How Comber got up again, overtook Hartland and Cam, and ran with them for many miles with a jagged ironstone bullet embedded in the muscles of his back; and how ultimately they all three reached a friendly town and were safe, is familiar history.

Possibly the reader may be wondering by this time whether, carried away by interest in John Hartland and the Congo Mission, I have forgotten Miss Thomas and my proper business. I hope the next paragraph may afford adequate proof that this is not the case.

Early in 1882 Mrs. Seymour, who as Miss Nodes had been closely associated with John Hartland in the children’s work at Camden Road, and whose husband was his friend, received from him a most interesting and momentous letter. In it he confessed that before leaving for the Congo he had conceived a strong affection for Miss Gwen Thomas, and the hope that one day he might have the happiness of securing her as his wife. Foreseeing that he might not be able to endure the Congo climate, he determined to keep his love and his hope secret, and had sailed without giving word or sign. At least he had done his best in the matter of concealment. But now that he had become acclimatised, and good prospect of life and work was before him, he was minded to put his fate to the test, and he desired Mrs. Seymour to broach the subject for him. On one condition! He conceived it possible that during his absence Miss Thomas’s interest and affection might have been engaged by some other man. If Mrs. Seymour had reason to suppose that such was the case, then he would have her burn his letter, and keep his secret, as he was sure that if Miss Thomas knew she had been the innocent occasion of suffering to him, she herself would suffer, and that purposeless suffering he would have her spared. But if the way seemed clear, he desired a friend’s most friendly mediation. He enclosed a letter addressed to his sister. If all went well with his indirect wooing, he desired Mrs. Seymour to hand this letter to Miss Hartland that his friends at home might have the earliest possible intimation of his joy. But if things went awry, he would have the letter destroyed, that they might not know that with other burdens he carried the grievous addition of an unrequited love.

It was obviously the letter of a courteous, Christian gentleman, and much impressed by its extreme chivalry, Mrs. Seymour proceeded to execute her difficult commission. But finding that the negotiation was not to be precisely a matter of plain sailing, with sound, womanly wisdom she made haste to convey to her correspondent the time-honoured counsel, “Speak for yourself, John.”

John spoke for himself, on such wise that obstacles were removed, hesitations overcome, and in due course he received the word of assent which his heart coveted. But he had to wait for it, with what patience he could muster, through several weary months. The following letter will say much to the discerning reader and spare me pages of laboured exposition:—

“St. Margaret’s,” Hampstead Heath.

“July 5, 1882.

“My dear Mrs. Hartland,—Thank you so much for your kind letter of this morning. I am so glad that our engagement is pleasing to you. I feel sure that it is the hand of God which has guided us both in this matter. My only regret is that dear John should have had such a weary waiting time. But I try to remember that he is in ‘Our Father’s’ care as well as I. I do most earnestly pray that I may be a help to him in the great and noble work he has undertaken: work in which I have so long wished to have a share, that I am almost afraid to realise that my heart’s desire is about to be fulfilled. I can only leave my joy where I have so often left my desires, at the feet of Him to whom all hearts are open, all desires known. I am hoping to go home on Saturday evening to spend the Sunday. If I am early enough I will try to look in on my way. If not, I shall be at chapel on Sunday morning and stay to communion there, when I shall hope to see some of you. I would propose coming down in the afternoon, but my own dear papa is so very unwell that I don’t think I could leave. With best love to you all,

“Believe me,

“Yours affectionately,

“Gwen Elen Thomas.”

“St. Margaret’s, Hampstead Heath,” from which this letter is dated, was the residence of Mr. and Mrs. May, in whose family Miss Thomas was acting as governess, having responsible charge of their young children. Her position was a singularly happy one. She was treated as a friend, and received the utmost Christian courtesy and kindness, of which she often speaks in her letters, with expressions of warm gratitude. Mr. and Mrs. May used to spend the winter in Spain, and during their absence Miss Thomas had the care of their children at Ramsgate. Consequently her opportunities of seeing Mrs. Hartland were only occasional, but her letters were frequent and affectionate. It is manifest that Mrs. Hartland had taken the woman of her son’s choice into her heart, and that Miss Thomas gladly accepted the spiritual hospitality.

She had kept John Hartland waiting a long time. A curious Nemesis ordained that she in her turn should be kept waiting. Having despatched the letter which is to abolish his anxieties and fill his heart with rapture, she naturally yearns to have the record of the rapture before her in black and white. Of course, she must wait for the mails; but the mails come and the record tarries. Shipwreck and minor mischances cause her hope to be deferred. Toward the end of September she writes plaintively to Miss Hartland: “It seems as if all this year has been taken up for me and John in waiting for letters.” Meanwhile her spare time is not occupied in idle dreaming. She has taken up the study of Portuguese, and writes out her Sunday-school lessons, finding this a more fruitful means of studying the Bible than reading merely. Moreover she thinks her MSS. “may come in handy by-and-by.” In October, by the irony of fate, she gets news of her sweetheart through other people’s letters, and ruefully writes to Mrs. Hartland: “John seems to have written to every one by this mail except to Mrs. Seymour and to me”; and goes on to say that she will be very glad when the suspense is over and she can look forward to getting her letters every month. The November mail brought peace.

“13, Wellington Crescent, Ramsgate.

“November 19, 1882.

“My dearest Mrs. Hartland,—I must write just a line or two to tell you I had my letter last night. Wasn’t it nice? On his birthday! And so the long waiting time is over for both of us at last. I can hardly believe it. It is all so wonderful, the way that the Lord has led us both. Poor dear old boy! he has had a long, weary time altogether. But it is over at last, and, as he puts it, ‘The joy of the present is all the sweeter for past sorrow.’ I suppose you have had a letter, for he tells me he is going to write to you. In mine he says it will be nearly another year, he fears, before he is home. My letter is dated September 15th. I can’t write about other things now. But I know you will rejoice with us both in our happiness. With much love to all,

“Believe me, dear Mrs. Hartland,

“Yours affectionately,

“Gwen Elen Thomas.”

At the end of November Messrs. Grenfell and Doke were on the point of sailing for the Congo, and Miss Thomas records her regret that she was unable to see them, but cherishes the hope of meeting them in Africa. Grenfell she met, though under other conditions than those she had forecast; but Doke had passed on. As the year waned her father’s illness had caused her grave concern, but before it closed he was better. She records also with pleasure that she is wearing the ring which Mrs. Hartland had procured at her son’s desire.

The little spell of happy work and happy correspondence to which she had looked forward was quickly troubled. Later deep called unto deep. In January her father died, at the age of seventy-three, and her natural sorrow was rendered more acute by the fact that he had been to her, as to his other children, a friend as well as a father, who desired and received not only their filial affection, but their understanding and sympathy in the intellectual interests of his life.

Soon afterwards came news of the death of Mr. Doke, who had studied and practised engineering, as well as theology, and had gone out to the Congo with Grenfell, specially to superintend the reconstruction of the steamer Peace. This sad event moved Miss Thomas deeply and touched her happy dreams with a shadow of new anxiety. Three months later the shadow suddenly blackened.

On June 19th Mr. Brock called to inform her that the Baptist Missionary Committee had received a letter from Grenfell stating that John Hartland was ailing, and that Grenfell hoped to send him home immediately, in which case he might be expected at the end of the month. At first she was naturally tempted to regard the news as good, giving promise of an early meeting with the man she loved. But reflection quickly taught her that Mr. Brock would not have been deputed by the Committee to bring her happy tidings, and she prepared herself for the disclosure of the fact, designedly withheld from her for the moment, that John Hartland’s illness was very grave. For three weeks her heart was tense with anxiety, and she wrote to Mrs. Hartland frequently, sometimes day by day, pouring out her solicitude, her sympathy, the pain of her love and the comfort of her faith.

On July 4th she wrote in a letter to Mrs. Hartland: “I heard from Mr. Crudgington this morning, telling me of the answer he had received. He seems to think it probable that our dear John will be on board the English mail, as it is so late. But I am trying not to count upon it too much.” This was written in the morning. In the afternoon the following telegram was received at the Mission House:—

“Madeira, 1.55, July 4th. Received here 4.11 p.m.

“Baynes, Baptist Missionary Society, London.

“Hartland dead, dysentery. Break news gently.

“Dixon (Congo).”

In the evening Mr. Baynes broke the news to Mrs. Hartland, and his colleague, the Rev. J. B. Myers, to Miss Thomas. Mr. Myers has given me an account of the well-remembered interview. Upon receiving him Miss Thomas took her seat upon a couch. When he had communicated his heavy tidings her features became rigid, but she gave no other sign of emotion. He spoke gently, and prayed with her, “Yet she neither moved nor wept,” and when he left her she remained silent and still as one in a trance.

When the mail came it was pitiful to learn that the man she had loved had been lying in his grave five weeks before the first intimation of his illness had been received at home. Here I take leave to reproduce the brief account of John Hartland’s death, given in “The Life of George Grenfell”:—

“The timely arrival of Mr. Dixon at Underhill, and his willingness to take charge while Grenfell got away, made the desired journey possible. The ‘run-up-country’ was a figure of speech, for he was so weak that he had to be carried in a hammock.

“Prior to starting he had written cheerily of his hope of soon meeting his friend, John Hartland, who, while willing to stay, was to be constrained to take furlough in July or August. This hope was fulfilled earlier than he had forecast, but under conditions which made the fulfilment a heart-breaking disappointment.

“At Manyanga, in the middle of April, Hartland found himself so weakened by fever that he took boat and came down river to Bayneston, arriving on April 21st. Hughes, who was in charge of the station at Bayneston, overborne by the heavy nursing which Hartland’s serious condition entailed, wrote to Butcher, who was at the camp on the Luvu River, beseeching him to hurry on to Bayneston. With fever upon him, Butcher started immediately, and by dint of hard walking arrived at Bayneston the next day, having previously despatched a message to Grenfell, who had left Underhill on the 27th. The message reached him on the second day of his journey, and though ill himself, he pushed on with forced marches arriving at Bayneston on May 1st. It was at once apparent to him that Hartland, whom Hughes and Butcher had ‘carefully nursed through ten days of the severest form of dysentery,’ was in a dangerous condition. But abatement of the worst symptoms gave hope, which again was subdued to fear.

“After further fluctuations, hope was abandoned on May 10th, and it was Grenfell’s duty to inform his friend that his day’s work was done. ‘I shan’t easily forget,’ he writes, ‘his look, as he gazed at us and said, ‘Well, I am not afraid to die. My trust is in Jesus. Whosoever believeth in Him hath everlasting life!’ A little while later he said, ‘After four years’ preparation, and just as I am about to enter upon mission work proper, it seems strange for me to realise that my work is done: but He knows best.’

“On the evening of the same day Comber arrived unexpectedly, and most opportunely, for the affection of these two men for one another was intense. They had worked together in the home country, they had shared early perils, and were absolutely one in their devotion to Christ and His work in Africa. Their intercourse during the two remaining days of Hartland’s life was very tender and sacred, and the letter which Comber wrote to Mrs. Hartland is one of the most beautiful and touching of all our missionary records. It reveals how the dying man’s gaze was absorbed by Christ; how he turned from dear thoughts of home and marriage and happy work to the dearer thought of being with Him, and seeing Him as He is. His last words, uttered at the final moment, were: ‘Christ is all in all; Christ is all in all. Let me go, my friends. Don’t hold me back. Let me go, Tom. I must go. I want to go to Him. “Simply to Thy cross I cling.” Let me go.’ So he passed on.”

To this account I am now enabled to make a touching addition. On May 10th Grenfell told Hartland that he was dying. After hearing the announcement, and having the witness in himself that it was true, he indited four letters, severally addressed to his father, his mother, his two sisters, and Miss Thomas. The first three have been placed in my hands.

In the letter to his father Hartland explains that as the power of writing has passed from him, his friend Butcher is taking down the words at his dictation. The same notes of dignity, tenderness, and calm faith are found in every one. Assured that only good can come of it, I venture to print the tenderest of them all.

“Bayneston, Congo River.

“May 10, 1883.

“My dear Mother,—You will be sorry to know when you get this letter that your missionary boy has passed away from the field of active service to rest. My views of missionary life were not that I should fall after four short years, but that I should spend my whole life in Christ’s service. But He knows best. I know you will not grieve to hear that He has delivered me from a long and painful illness, and at last taken me to Himself. But, oh! my dear mother, I am so sorry for you. Your heart will break. Oh, may He be very near to you! You have been a dear, good mother to me, and now in writing this brief farewell I feel happy that it will not be so long before we meet again, in His land, where sickness and dying are no more.

“Comfort poor, dear Gwennie; and while you live, be a mother and a friend to her.

“Farewell,

“Your affectionate son,

“John.”

Mrs. Hartland was faithful to the charge of her dying son. From that time forth, as long as she lived, she was “a mother and a friend” to Miss Thomas, and from that time forth Miss Thomas called her “mother.” What wonder that she wrote to Miss Hartland while her grief was new, “I feel so thankful ever to have had the love of such a brave, good, noble man? Oh, Lily, what have I lost?” With wonted kindness Mrs. May granted Miss Thomas leave of absence. Part of the resting-time was spent with Mrs. Hartland and part with her cousin in Yorkshire.

At first, in the great weariness following suspense and shock, Miss Thomas confessed more than once a yearning to follow her dear one into the great rest. But her native strength of mind, and her loyalty to God quickly conquered such weakness. Rather would she live to carry on his work.

The following extracts from letters written while her great sorrow was still fresh and keen, will give the reader some insight into the inner life of a woman who was learning in the school of pain, those deeper lessons of the faith, which may be learned by rote in other schools, but not by heart, lessons which she never forgot, which contain the last secret of her victorious life.

“August 21st. (To Mrs. Hartland.) But don’t think from this that I am worrying or fretting; for I am not. God is with me, and I feel more and more as the days go by that our darling’s prayers for me have been wonderfully answered, that I am helped and comforted. And is it not an honour and privilege ‘to know Him and the fellowship of His sufferings’? He has always been with me in trouble and sorrow, but never so near as in this the deepest of all. I hardly like to write thus, but I want you to know, so that you may not be anxious about me. And as to my future, I have left it with Him to do as He will with me, and I pray for grace to be faithful in whatever work He calls me to.”

“August 28th. (To Miss Hartland.) To-day I have had a letter, a very precious one, from Mr. Comber.... I think he is feeling his loss very much, though he writes as brightly as he can.... Since I have been back I have read through Farrar’s ‘Life of Christ,’ and it has helped me so much. I think these sorrows must be sent to us to make us know that ‘Christ is all in all’; for gradually we come to learn that having Him we can do without all else. And yet, how we long for human love! Nor do I think it can be wrong to do so; for even Christ looked for human sympathy in His sorrow. He could not find it. And, oh, how much we have had in ours! I never so much realised before the oneness of the people of God; so many kind letters from far and near, some even from unknown friends, and yet so full of sympathy and prayer. I have thought of that verse so often:—

“‘His way was much rougher and darker than mine;

Did Christ my Lord suffer, and shall I repine?’”

“Same date. (To Mrs. Hartland.) I am very thankful the way seems to be opening. Of course I will go to India if it is thought best. But no one knows how dear and sacred Africa is to me.... My only wish now is to live as he lived, and when my work is done (if God wills) to die as he died, for Christ and Africa. I do think of you so much, and could almost envy you at times the sweet, pure memories of his boyish days. I do feel it is an honour to have had the love (for so many years though I did not know it) of such a noble, true, good man. And I am sure you, dear mother, feel it a high privilege to have had such a son. It is a great comfort to look back, and while we sorrow, to feel there is nothing to regret. A pure, noble life, and a glorious death. I think of that text so often, ‘If ye loved Me, ye would rejoice because I go to My Father.’ Oh, how happy he must be!”

As soon as she had recovered strength after the shock of her great bereavement, Miss Thomas formed the determination to go to the mission-field alone, and with little delay made application to the Baptist Missionary Society. Her application was accepted in September. At first there was thought of sending her to India, but finally, to her great joy, it was decided that she should labour at the Cameroons, travelling thither with Miss Comber, who had already spent one term of service in the field which her brother had left for the Congo.

Uncertainty as to the time of her actual departure compelled her to relinquish forthwith her engagement with Mrs. May, who was on the point of going abroad for some months. But she was opportunely invited to take another position, for the time being, which she rightly affirmed that Providence had specially arranged for her. Her friend Mrs. Seymour required the help of a lady in her home, and was willing to receive Miss Thomas on terms which friendship dictated, and which friendship eagerly accepted. She was to regard herself as a visitor, and feel perfectly free to attend to her own affairs, and to depart whenever the call should come.

So Miss Thomas went from Hampstead to Highbury, where she passed the busy months of waiting in an atmosphere of sympathy and friendship. After some changes of arrangement it was ultimately fixed that she and Miss Comber should sail from Liverpool on March 5th. On Monday, March 3rd, a farewell meeting was held at Camden Road Church, and on behalf of the Sunday School, Mr. Parkinson presented Miss Thomas with a harmoniphon. She also received at the same meeting a medicine chest, the gift of Mr. Baynes, whose absence in consequence of illness was much deplored. There were some forty other presents privately given of which I have the list. It included items of practical utility. Among them, five pounds’ worth of spoons, forks, and table requisites, from “the Ladies’ Missionary Working Party”; and (equally useful) from other friends, four five-pound notes. Notable among the names of the donors are those of M. Gustave Masson, French Master at Harrow, Miss Thomas’s uncle by marriage with her mother’s sister; and the Rev. William Brock, minister of Heath Street, Hampstead, whose church Miss Thomas had attended during her stay in the district, and from whom she had received much of that discerning, sympathetic kindness which still endears him to all who come within its scope.

Miss Thomas spent the last fortnight with her friends, the Hartlands, at 34, Falkland Road, and on the morning of March 4th, she and Miss Comber left St. Pancras after an enthusiastic valediction from a large group of friends. They were accompanied to Liverpool by Mr. Percy Comber, Miss Comber’s younger brother, and Miss Alice Hartland. Mrs. Fletcher of Edge Lane, whose daughter was on the field at Cameroons, entertained them, with warmest hospitality, and in the evening a drawing-room meeting was held, at which the Rev. John Jenkyn Brown presided.

The next day shortly after noon they embarked in a tender, and proceeded to board the ss. Corisco, which lay in the stream. Many friends elected to say “goodbye” on board, and when the bell rang and the tender left, two of them, Mr. Percy Comber and Miss Alice Hartland, remained as stowaways, and secured the unchartered pleasure of a voyage with their dear ones down the river and across the bar. But their deferred farewells must needs be said at last. They also were put off in turn, and the two young missionary women passed out to sea.

CHAPTER III
VOYAGE TO THE CAMEROONS, AND A SURFEIT OF ADVENTURES. 1884

The trials of the missionary life commenced early for Miss Thomas. During the voyage to Madeira the weather was exceptionally bad, and she and Miss Comber endured the horrors of sea-sickness for a week. Happily their sorrows were mitigated by invincible good spirits. They “were very jolly all the time,” made jokes of their own miseries, and when the doctor enquired with traditional sympathy whether they yearned to be flung overboard, his obliging suggestion was repelled with scorn. The ship carried no stewardess, and at first they found it embarrassing to be waited upon by a man. But “any port in a storm,” and any help in the sickness which the storm produces! The steward was a nice kindly person, and they soon became used to his presence and grateful for his attendance. During the days of wild buffeting by wind and wave, the harbour of Madeira was looked forward to with strong desire, and it was a doleful hour in which the Captain expressed his fear that the badness of the weather would preclude his touching at the Island. That fear was discredited by the event; the weather moderated, and upon sighting land the sufferers were able to appear on deck.

They both found much comfort in the presence of a third lady, Mrs. Buckenham, who was going out to her husband, a Primitive Methodist missionary stationed at Fernando Po. The Captain’s marked kindness was an additional comfort, and indeed the source of very many. His cabin on deck had been annexed by certain gentlemen as a smoking saloon, but upon the appearance of the missionary ladies, the smokers suffered summary eviction, and the cabin was placed at their service. On the morning of March 12th they steamed round Madeira and made the harbour in perfect weather, which permitted them to take unchecked delight in the lovely scenery. The Captain saw them ashore, secured for them a spacious, private, detached apartment at the hotel where he himself put up, and in the afternoon Miss Thomas sat down to write a merry letter to her “dear Mother,” Mrs. Hartland.

As she writes her attention is confessedly distracted by the dazzling charms of the flower-garden she looks out upon, and the more sober, but more enthralling charms of the tea-table, which is being spread. Her week of sea-sickness is pleaded as an excuse for gloating over mere victuals, the validity of which plea the humane reader will immediately allow. Referring to the troubles passed, she writes gaily: “And we had many a laugh at our own expense. To see the boxes and chairs executing a jig in the middle of the room, and then to hear the fearful crashes of crockery in the pantry next our cabin, ourselves making frantic efforts to get from one side of the room to the other, and ending by being landed on the floor in an elegant sitting posture, or coming up with a spin against the door—all this was very diverting.”

As the Corisco was timed to sail at nine o’clock the next morning, Miss Thomas and her friends had little opportunity of making acquaintance with Funchal. Yet, in the limited time at their disposal they moved about briskly, with eyes wide open, and acquired many vivid impressions of the natural beauties of the place and the non-English social novelties which appealed to them in the shops and in the streets.

From Madeira to Sierra Leone the voyage was pleasant as a picnic. Miss Thomas and Miss Comber were much in favour with their fellow-passengers, and the Captain made them his peculiar care. He was an English sailor of the best type, and though he had no special reverence for their mission, he unfeignedly admired their British pluck, in which they were at least his peers. Sometimes he told them dismal, tragical tales of Africa, with the purpose of testing their mettle, and when he found that they refused to be dismayed, he assured them they were just the kind of folk to do well on the West Coast, where courage and good spirits are the best defence against the hostilities of the deadly climate. One day he came upon them at afternoon tea, winked at their illicit spirit-stove, and craved to be allowed to join them. Thereafter, at this little function, he was their daily guest. He told them “wonderful stories of his wife, of whom he was very proud,” made his black boy “Dollar” their servant, and taught his retriever dog to amuse them and attend them. His apology for his rather more than conventional kindness was ingenious and conclusive. “At Liverpool the ‘Sky-pilot’ (Rev. John Jenkyn Brown) specially charged me to take good care of both of you, and I am going to fulfil my commission faithfully.” His protégées so far imbued him with the missionary spirit that he promised to give a concert at Bonny in aid of the work. The promise may have been kept, but the fulfilment of it is not recorded.

On March 19th the Corisco was “off Sierra Leone.” Nine days later she lay outside the bar at the mouth of Benin River. The Captain and some of his passengers had business up the river, and took the three missionary ladies with them. They were deposited in the launch by means of the crane and the chair, an experience which they found amusing, the time of their departure from the ship being 9 a.m. At the Bar the sea was rough to the point of ugliness, and the Captain regretted that he had brought the ladies; but there was no mishap, and very soon the voyagers, whose pulses had been quickened by the passage of the Bar, were enjoying the quiet waters of the mile-wide river, with its banks “dotted here and there by little towns.” Miss Thomas shall tell in her own words the rest of the story of her Benin expedition:—

“As we stopped at the various traders’ wharves while the Captain and some of the gentlemen went ashore, the people came crowding down to look at us, as only two white ladies had passed up the river before, and that many years ago. Our eyes were the great attraction, which all happened to be light. One woman was very proud because she could manage to say, ‘How do, Mammy?’

“We went on to see a Mr. Henderson whose house is built on an island. He is a very good man, and a total abstainer, so we determined to lunch with him. Upon arrival we knocked and made a great noise before we could get any answer. At last a man came, and most politely taking off his hat, inquired, ‘You live, Mammy?’ To which we responded, ‘Yes, we live. You live?’ Finally he brought a key and we went into the courtyard where we met Mr. Henderson whose astonishment was complete. He said that when he was told three white ladies had come, he surmised that the sailors of a ship in the river were having fun with him, and would not come down. We had a very nice lunch, and some delicious tea for which Mr. Henderson is noted. Among other presents he gave us a tin full of it. We commenced our return at 3.30 and had a very rough passage. Our little boat was tossed on the waves, and the spray kept breaking over us. Darkness fell, a tornado followed in our track, and the lightning was most splendid. We sat, well covered up, singing Sankey’s hymns. It was a fine experience, and happily we reached the ship just before the rain fell.”

On Sunday, March 30th, the Corisco reached Bonny, and on the morrow the mail steamer Senegal arrived bringing two passengers whose presence was cordially welcomed; Mr. Buckenham, who had come so far to meet his wife, and Mr. Liley, of the Livingstone Inland Mission from the Congo. But the pleasure of meeting Mr. Liley was shadowed by the heavy news he bore. From him Miss Thomas received part of that terrible budget of evil tidings which greeted George Grenfell at Stanley Pool, when he returned from his boat journey to the equator on March 4th. She learned that Mr. Hartley, the new missionary, and the two engineers sent out to reconstruct the Peace, had all died on their journey up-country, and that the work on the Congo, passing dear to her, was gravely disorganised by the sickness of several workers. Moreover, a letter from Miss Saker announced that Mr. Lewis had broken down and gone south, Miss Fletcher was ailing, while the writer herself was in such poor case that she would be compelled to start for a trip to Gaboon immediately upon the arrival of Miss Thomas. This would necessitate that Miss Comber should come to Bethel Station, Cameroons, to remain with Miss Thomas during Miss Saker’s absence, instead of commencing her work forthwith at Victoria.

The young missionaries were delayed several days at Bonny, made a visit to Opobo, and called upon King Ja-Ja, whose hospitality they enjoyed, not without effort. The palm oil “chop” was an ordeal. The King himself was a nice man and friendly, but his house was frightfully dirty and wore the aspect of a curiosity shop, promiscuously furnished with odds and ends presented him by the traders. Miss Thomas and the other ladies were permitted to visit his wives, concerning which visit she significantly remarks: “It was awful.” The bright side of a depressing experience was the King’s earnestly expressed desire that a white missionary should come to reside in his town, and she had some hope that Mr. Buckenham’s society might be able to meet his wish.

Before leaving Bonny Miss Thomas and Miss Comber said “goodbye” to the Corisco and its genial captain, and were transhipped to the Loanda. A few days later they arrived at Victoria, and the elements accorded them a boisterous welcome, as the following extract from the Missionary Herald will make apparent:—

“On April 4th Miss Comber and Miss Gwen Thomas safely reached Victoria. Miss Comber writes: ‘When we reached Victoria, Mrs. Thomson came on the vessel to meet us, and when all was ready we started for the shore in two boats—our mission boat, and the ship’s boat—Mrs. Quintin Thomson, the doctor and the purser of the ship, going in the mission boat, while Miss Thomas and I went with the Captain in the ship’s boat. When we were near the shore a very large wave came suddenly, and before the Kroo-boys had time to pull away from it, it broke over us and turned the boat right over, and we directly found ourselves in the water. Fortunately the other boat was not far off, and very quickly came back for us and picked us up before we had been in the water many minutes. The children were all on the beach waiting to welcome us with singing, but when they saw Miss Thomas carried to the house (she had lost her shoes) and me walking up drenched with water, they said they were “not fit to sing.” Happily we are none the worse for our wetting. This happened on Saturday. On Sunday night we had the heaviest tornado I have ever known. Our people say there has not been so strong a one for twenty-three years. Unfortunately it did a good deal of damage to Brook Mount, taking down the front piazza and a good deal of the roof. It happened just as we were going to bed, and a second time we got a wetting; so we had rather a rough welcome to Africa.’

“From Bethel Miss Thomas adds: ‘The country is all so beautiful, and the climate so delightful, that it is hard to understand it is so unhealthy. I am very anxious to get on with the Dualla language, as I see it will be very necessary here. We had a most delightful day yesterday (Sunday). Miss Saker is away, just now, having gone South for her health. But we were just in time to see her before she left, and Miss Comber is with me now. I am so glad and thankful to be at last really engaged in mission work in Africa. We have six children in the house now, and there are several more wanting to come.’”

Miss Thomas was an excellent correspondent from the beginning of her missionary life, but not many of her earliest African letters are available, and the reader must be content with fragmentary notes of the beginnings of her work. The passage quoted above was written on or about April 16th, and on that date, in a letter to Miss Alice Hartland, she states that she is very well, and has not had a single headache since leaving England. The rains are just commencing. She has had a walk through the town with Mr. Silvey, and is impressed by the size of it. In the absence of King Aqua she has been granted the honour of an interview with his chief wife. She has also paid a visit to the week-old baby of Dubundu, the native pastor. The lady was almost as bare of clothing as the baby. The one struck her as “horrid-looking,” the other as “funny.” Definite arrangements as regards her particular work are postponed, pending the return of Miss Saker, who is expected home in ten days. A present is enclosed for “Mother’s” birthday.

On April 21st Miss Thomas reports receiving the sad news of the death of Mr. Johnstone, a Christian trader, residing at Bonny, who had shown much kindness to her and her friends during their stay at that port. Assured of his sympathy, they had been able to speak to him with grateful freedom of their ideals and their work. He had traded on the coast for fifteen years, was due home in two months, but was suddenly stricken down with erysipelas and died. The kind heart of the writer is heavy with the thought of the desolation which the news will bear to his wife and children in England. Flags are flying half-mast in the river. An English sailor lies dead, who leaves a wife and nine children in England. The Mission people are sending a wreath for his burial.

May 12th was the anniversary of John Hartland’s death, and Miss Thomas wrote to his mother assured that both would be “thinking of the dear one who, this day last year, went home to God.” Sad news has come from the Congo, including a report of the very serious illness of Thomas Comber. During Miss Saker’s continued absence Miss Comber is to remain with Miss Thomas, much to her joy, as they are like-minded. But the tidings of her brother’s illness, and the necessity of a flying visit to Victoria, have prostrated Miss Comber with fever, through which she is affectionately nursed by her friend. Mr. Lewis has come over from Victoria, and Miss Thomas finds him “nice,” and “a thorough Welshman.” He had lent her a book on Wales, which interests her much. But the only time for a good read is the time of recovering from fever. The Sunday services are mostly in Dualla, and although they include a short address in English, it is framed with a view to local capacities and requirements, and her soul longs for a Sunday at Camden Road with Mr. Tucker, to whom she sends her love.

Miss Alice Hartland had helped Miss Thomas with some of her packing, and on May 17th the results were reported. A good many things had come to grief. A number of books needed to have their covers washed and to be laid in the sun to dry—a statement which the book-lover will read with shuddering. But the worst misfortune was not to be laid to the charge of the amateur packers. The Kroo-boys who carried the cases must needs drop something, and with fine discrimination they chose a case containing a bath filled with crockery. The smash was effective, and the details may be left to imagination.

In this letter Miss Thomas reports her continued good health, but complains of bad nights as her worst trouble. “The Kroo-boys on the beach strike every hour by banging something which sounds like a tin tray. The natives are constantly beating their tomtoms, which sets our dog ‘Fidele’ barking. Then the goats begin to bleat, and the little dogs in the yard to howl, so that between them all it is horrible. As this happens almost every night, and storms are frequent, a good night is consequently a rare blessing.”

Miss Saker and Mr. Lewis are expected from Victoria, their boat is in the river. Sunday was enjoyed. Miss Thomas took the two senior boys’ classes, and hopes that a senior boys’ class will be allotted to her. “They understand English properly and are very intelligent.”

A month later she refers to a letter which has told of her first attack of fever and how wonderfully she had got over it. Her friends think she will not have it so badly again. Her fevers are likely to be “strong,” but it is believed she can bear them better than most people, so anxiety about her is to be dismissed.

Miss Fletcher, of Victoria, is returning home broken down. The sorrow of her friends is forecast and deplored, and Miss Comber’s ensuing loneliness at Victoria occasions solicitude. In this letter, dated June 17th, and addressed to Mrs. Hartland, Miss Thomas pleads for more Camden Road news and adds, touchingly: “When I was ill, and my head was so bad that I could get no sleep, I kept fancying if I could only hear Mr. Tucker read something it would send me to sleep. Of course it was only fancy, but it was the one thing I seemed to long for.” In consequence of the fever her hair has been cut quite short like a boy’s. She cares nothing for the look of it, and it will be much better in case of the recurrence of fever.

On July 11th Miss Thomas was at Victoria whither she had been hastily summoned to attend Miss Comber who was down with fever and dysentery. Pending Miss Thomas’s arrival Mr. Lewis had acted as doctor and nurse, and his gentleness and skill were gratefully appreciated by his patient and by her nurse, when she came. The other missionaries at Victoria, Mr. Hay and Mr. Pinnock, were also full of kindness and concern. Referring to her call from Bethel Station, Miss Thomas says:—

“This is how the work is interrupted here. I will try to give you an idea of it from this week’s experience. Miss Saker and I had just been making new arrangements for the management of our school, and had planned out our daily work afresh. On Monday morning we had told the girls of our new arrangements. We had also set apart a time every day in which Mr. Silvey and I were to read Dualla with Miss Saker. She had not been well enough for this previously. Well, on Monday evening, Mr. Silvey came running in with Mr. Burnley bringing letters from Mr. Lewis requesting me to come at once. First, they had to knock up some men and go to Dr. Allen’s ship to learn his opinion of the treatment adopted. It was half-past one a.m. when they returned. Meanwhile I got my things ready and at 6 a.m. started. The travelling is bad in the rainy season....

“I think you may like to know something about the journey between Cameroons and Victoria. First we are carried by Kroo-boys into the boat, which is a six-oared lifeboat with an awning over one end. Then our course lies down the river for about twenty miles. After that we cross a stretch of sea, and then turn into creeks, which run between mangrove swamps. This time, about eleven o’clock, the boat was pulled up to the bank, and tied fast to a tree. Then we all had ‘chop.’ ... The Kroo-boys eat theirs at the other end of the boat. After rather a rough passage we reached Bimbia about 8 p.m. The sea was too rough to go further that night. I never saw anything more beautiful than the scene as I lay in the boat in Bimbia Bay. The water there was comparatively calm, while outside one could see the raging breakers. The sky was clear overhead, the moon shining brilliantly upon the little town, which consists of a few native houses, surrounded by loveliest trees. There is only one white man’s house, that of the German Agent, at which I was forced to stay the night. He was very kind, got me supper, made up a bed for me, and provided a black girl to sleep with me and to wait upon me. The next morning we started at sunrise, and arrived here (Victoria) at half-past eight. Mr. Lewis, Mr. Hay and John Pinnock were on the beach waiting for me. Mr. Lewis has just come in to say the mail is leaving to-night, so I must not write more. Miss Comber has made good progress. She is sitting up in her room, and with assistance walked twice round the sitting-room to-day. I think she will do well now, with care; but she will need to go for a trip South before resuming her work. Mr. Hay and John Pinnock are both down with fever, and very ill, especially the former. Mr. Lewis is staying with both and nursing both. I do trust they will get over it well. I am very anxious about Mr. Hay. There is a man-of-war at anchor here now. Mr. Lewis and I went on board yesterday for a change. That was before John Pinnock fell ill. The doctor came ashore and saw the two patients, but he is evidently not very reliable. We think he had been drinking. Mr. Lewis is becoming quite a doctor now. I cannot write more.”

As Mr. Lewis, whose name has been mentioned two or three times, is destined to take a very prominent place in this life-story, it is fitting that at least a few words of formal introduction should be accorded to him; and if they are but few, the reader must know that my hand is restrained by his express desire.

Thomas Lewis was born at Whitland, Carmarthenshire, in 1859. He was a Welsh-speaking Welshman, and his early Christian work was done in the vernacular. He can still preach in Welsh upon occasion, though he has lost some of his former fluency. But when he preaches in English his accent and his lilt bewray him. In the order of Providence he learned to work in wood and iron before he studied theology, and his skill as a handicraftsman has been scarcely less useful to him in his African career than his book-learning. After an honourable course at Haverfordwest College he was accepted by the B.M.S. for service in Africa, and was sent to the Cameroons in 1883. When Mr. Lewis first met Miss Thomas he was engaged to Miss Phillips of Haverfordwest, and how he was happily married and swiftly bereaved will be told in the next chapter.

On August 5th Miss Thomas writes of “our troubles” which came in sequence to the anxious stay at Victoria. She herself has been down with fever, has made a good recovery, but has been “silly enough” to sprain her ankle. Yet on the whole she is in good form, and is pronounced “wonderful” by the local doctor. But Miss Saker’s continued and alarming illness will necessitate her return home. Her things are packed, they are awaiting the arrival of the mail, and Miss Thomas is to accompany her part way. Miss Thomas continues: “It is now a month since I went to Victoria to nurse Miss Comber, and I have been nursing ever since with an interval of five days for my own fever.” The news from Victoria is bad. Miss Comber is very unwell; Mr. Hay is very ill; and the work is at a standstill.

The mail steamer Bonny arrived on August 19th under the command of Captain Dyson, who had shown Miss Thomas and Miss Comber so much kindness on their voyage out from Liverpool. Captain Dyson was amazed and delighted to find his young friend looking so well—better than when she left England, though perceptibly thinner. Mr. and Mrs. Buckenham were with Captain Dyson, and they all spent a day at the Mission. Miss Saker was placed in the Captain’s boat, in a bed, and carried aboard the Bonny, and the homeward voyage was commenced.

While at sea Miss Thomas herself fell ill, and was constrained to go much further than she intended, even to Madeira. Misadventures retard her return, and on October 29th she is still at sea, and dates from the “ss. Congo, between Akassa and Bonny.” Her letter will return from the Cameroons by the mail ship on which she writes. She is quite a good sailor now; never feels sick, and can take her constitutional, however badly the ship may be rolling. But her mind is gravely exercised by grievous thoughts of the long interruption of her work, and the heavy expense to the Society, which this voyage entails. She is dreading to hear from the Mission House lest the official letter may convey rebuke, and Mr. Baynes may be vexed by action on her part which may seem to be ill advised. A vain fear, at the recollection of which she would smile in later years, when she came to know how warm was Mr. Baynes’s friendship for her, and how from earliest days his insight into character had taught him to place implicit reliance upon her good feeling and her good sense. Meanwhile she adds grimly: “I’ll never come bringing invalids home again”—the mere voice of a mood which sympathy will know how to interpret.

While writing this letter her thoughts turn to Christmas. At the great anniversary seasons, friends far sundered, meet in spirit, and she will think much of dear ones at home; though on Christmas day she will be very busy, as the school treat at Bethel will then take place. Little did Miss Thomas realise when she wrote this down, how strange would be the conditions in which that treat would be held, and how little of outward peace the birthday of the Prince of Peace would bring to the Cameroons. The German annexation had been negotiated without the consent of certain local rulers who were concerned, and this fact bred discontent which ultimately fomented insurrection and internecine hostilities between the chiefs who were aggrieved. For an account of the general aspect of the German troubles the reader is referred to Note A at the end of the book. The volcanic upheaval came at the close of the year, and the following graphic letter gives the personal experiences of Miss Thomas, and affords an early disclosure of the heroic material of which she was made:—

“Bethel Station,

“December 16, 1884.

“My dearest Mother,—I am afraid you will get short letters from me this time. The mail is due in two days, I have not a line written yet, and I am so busy this week. I had a most pleasant time at Victoria, and when Mr. Comber went [who had called at Victoria on his way home from Congo], Mr. Lewis came to fetch me back. By the by, he told me some time ago to give his kind regards to you and to say that he had heard much about you, and hoped some day to make your acquaintance. The little steamer did not come, so I was forced to return in the boat. The voyage was rather long, but we arrived none the worse for it. The fact was I slept nearly all the way. We were very naughty at Victoria and used to stay up very late talking. Not having seen one another for so long, we had heaps to say. I left Carrie well, and also John Pinnock.

“The river here is in a most unsettled state. There is fighting all round us, but it has not come to our town yet. It is all in consequence of the German occupation, and the Germans encourage it. To-day Bell Town has been burnt down. I am now expecting Mr. Lewis to tea, so shall hear all about it. Two men were put to death there this morning, and one at Hickory yesterday. Jibarri was burnt down on Monday. The native teacher has fled, and the place is deserted. Firing is constantly going on, and war canoes are passing up and down the river. Do not be alarmed for me. We are quite safe, and the trouble has not affected our people yet.

“It seems so strange to think that Christmas is so near, I can hardly believe it. We are having fine hot weather, though the rains have not entirely ceased. Our school examinations are in course this week, and on Thursday we hold a public examination in the chapel. I must tell you about it next time. Our treat is fixed for Friday, and other treats are to be held at other stations during next week. Of course it entails work in looking out prizes, presents, &c., and on Friday Mr. Lewis is going to show the magic lantern. The children have come out pretty well in the examinations. Of course the subjects are elementary: writing, reading, spelling, dictation, sums, tables, needlework, and recitation of hymns.

“December 22, 1884. Since writing the foregoing so much has happened that will be interesting to all my friends that I beg you to let Mr. Tucker see this letter, and any others who may desire, for I cannot write a second, I have so much to tell. I have already told you of the unsettled state of the river. On Friday last (this is Monday) we heard that there were two German warships at the Bar, and on Saturday morning two small steamers came up the river towing boatloads of soldiers. Without giving any notice, they steamed up to Hickory Town, firing at every canoe on their way, landed men at Hickory, who set fire to the town while their comrades kept up a fusillade from the boats. Epea was down here and afraid to return. But his wife and children were at Hickory, so Mr. Silvey went up with him immediately, and sent Mrs. Epea and the children down to us, remaining himself with Epea. He found that Mr. Schmidt (of the German House) had saved our Mission House, but the chapel and schoolroom were burnt to the ground. (By this time the house is burnt also. The people have all fled to the bush, and the town is destroyed.) When Mr. Silvey returned he brought with him about fifty people, whom we managed to sleep as best we could, some in our house and some in the school-house. In the meantime the Germans steamed down the river and attacked Joss Town, which adjoins Bell Town. There they met with most determined resistance, and at first were driven back, forty-one of their soldiers being killed. The Joss people also went to Schmidt’s beach, dragged out Mr. Hammer (the clerk in charge) took him into the bush and killed him. The fighting went on for hours. Mr. Lewis could not leave, having no boat; and he and his two boys had to turn up the table and lie behind it, as the bullets were flying through the house; one passed close to his ear. He did not reach us until 5 p.m., when the tide went down, and he could walk along the beach, having had a very narrow escape. Of course all this time I was alone here and very anxious about Mr. Silvey and Mr. Lewis. At the first sound of firing the people came rushing to the Mission House being terribly frightened, as both the towns involved in the trouble are so close that we could see them burning. The firing was going on all around, and a gunboat was passing up and down in front of this town, firing on the beach. One of the white men was wounded, and had to be carried to Buchan’s ship. Of course we did not know what was going to happen next. The house was crowded with people, and I did my best to quiet them, but with no great success.

“Yesterday we were hoping for a quiet day. We held a prayer-meeting in the morning instead of the service, and had Sunday School as usual. But shortly after our return home, the Mission premises were surrounded by hundreds of German soldiers who commenced searching for Hickory and Joss people. Our houses were full of people, but they were not those whom the Germans wanted. Yet they persisted in believing that we were hiding their enemies. They searched every nook and corner of Mr. Silvey’s house, and of mine, walking about with loaded revolvers in their hands, with which they threatened Mr. Silvey and Mr. Lewis. They were a little more polite to me. My house was full of women and children, who were so frightened that they begged me not to leave them even to go into the next room. The Germans then compelled Mr. Lewis to go with them to Bell Town that they might search the house there, which is completely ruined, all his work there having gone for nothing. Bethel Station only is left now, there being neither buildings nor people at the others. Yesterday the Germans sent round a proclamation saying that any persons who directly or indirectly help the disaffected people will be treated as enemies and banished. This morning one of the warships came up the river and threw shells into Hickory, completing the ruin. It does seem dreadful that all this cruel work should be done by people calling themselves Christians. You may imagine that it has been, and is, a very anxious time for us all. But we have great cause for thankfulness, as we are all well. I am only afraid this news will reach you before our letters and cause anxiety on our behalf. What will be the result to the Mission we cannot tell. We hear that the Basle Mission are coming. (It is the best Mission on the coast.) In that case I suppose our Mission will give up the work. It does seem a pity. But it will require a large staff to do any good, so much building will be necessary. I am especially sorry about Hickory. It was such a nice little station, and had the best of our chapels. How strange that these things should be permitted. But the work is God’s, and we must leave it in His hands. The worst thing about the Germans is their manner of treating the people. Morgan, the pilot, is one of our best men, a very superior person. They put a rope round his neck, and told him they would hang him if he did not bring the man-of-war properly up the river. The people are full of comparisons between the English and the Germans, but little complimentary to the latter.

“Now I will turn to a more pleasant subject. Last Thursday we held a public examination of our schools in the chapel, and invited parents and friends. The children behaved nicely, sang, recited, and were examined in tables and spelling. Mr. Lewis presided and gave the prizes, which consisted of work-boxes, desks, books, shirts, &c. Then on Friday we held our treat, and had a fine time. My arms are still stiff from the effects of it. We began, in the morning, to cut up the pork, which I had cooked the previous day. It took me and two of my boys more than an hour to do this, and it was hot work. Meanwhile two of the women were cooking the rice in the yard, while Mrs. Williams made the fish soup in her house. The soup and the rice were then put into baths and carried into the chapel. When all was ready, and two tables covered with toys for ‘dashes,’ the children were let in. Each brought a plate or something equivalent (in many instances a wash-basin or old vegetable dish). Some brought spoons, but the majority were content with their fingers. Mr. Lewis, Mr. Silvey and I did ‘the helping,’ while some of the women and big boys ‘waited.’ You should have heard the noise! When they had eaten as much as they could, each one received a toy, and they were sent out to play. Meanwhile we cleared up the fragments and came home to rest and have dinner. After dinner we went out to join their games, and were soon hard at work. The play included races, racing in sacks, blind-man’s-buff, round the mulberry bush, orange and lemons, &c. You may imagine that it was rather hot work. Then about five o’clock we set them scrambling for sweets and nuts, and having given to each one a packet of sweets, we came in to our tea. After tea, as soon as it was dark, the magic-lantern sheet was put up, outside the big house, and Mr. Lewis showed the pictures to a very large audience. Indeed, most of the townspeople turned out. They behaved very well, and thoroughly enjoyed the exhibition. When the pictures were finished we sang, “I think when I read that sweet story of old,” which was thrown upon the screen, and so brought to an end a very pleasant, though very tiring day. Everything went off well, and those concerned departed having thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Of course all the other treats are stopped by this horrid fighting; but I am glad we held ours when we did.

“December 24th.

“I have written the latter part of this letter separately, so that you may lend it. Mr. Lewis and Mr. Silvey are writing to Mr. Baynes so that he will know all about the trouble. I should be glad if you could copy my account and send it to Mrs. Seymour.

“A little branch steamer has just come up the river, and will take letters early to-morrow morning. The Benguela came to the Bar a few days ago, but could not get up river on account of the fighting. I am so disappointed at getting no Christmas letters, and so are we all. We hear that the English Consul and a British man-of-war are coming to-morrow. The pilot has gone down to bring her up. I hope the Germans will have to pay for what they have done. Our people are all in panic, and are running away as fast as they can, some to Victoria and others to the bush. Half the town is deserted.

“I shall be thinking of you all to-morrow. Of course Mr. Silvey, Mr. Lewis, and I are going to spend the day together. We have had a goat killed, and I shall have one of Morton’s puddings. I would have made one but we cannot get suet, and eggs are very scarce just now. If all is well, we shall have a merry evening with our house-children. But I expect there will be great excitement as soon as the Consul comes, so I cannot really tell what we shall do. You must please give my love to my sister, and to any kind friends who may ask after me. I am sure they will excuse my not writing when they hear the cause.

“Yesterday we went to Bell Town. It is a complete ruin, and not a person was to be seen. Hickory is even worse, I believe, if that be possible. Well, I must finish now as it is bedtime. And with very much love to all,

“I am,

“Yours lovingly,

“Gwen.”

“PS.—I forgot to say that I am quite well; never felt better in my life. If you should see Miss Saker, please tell her all, as I cannot write to her now. I do not understand not hearing from any of you by this mail. I only had two letters, one from Miss Saker, and one from Miss Phillips. I did want some Christmas letters. I suppose I shall not get them now for another month, and we are all in the same box.

“I am sure if any of you want adventures, you had better come to Africa. I have had enough in eight months to last for some time.”

CHAPTER IV
ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND IMMORTELLES. 1885

At this period a strong friendship was formed between Mr. Lewis and Miss Thomas which made for joy and strength in both their lives. It could hardly have been otherwise. They were kindred spirits and were much thrown together in experiences which taxed and tested the best that was in them; and each was conscious that the other had endured the testing well. Labour, sickness, peril had proved them, under intimate mutual observation, to be tireless in service, patient in pain, and endowed with high courage. Compelled by the exigencies of their lot, they had in turn nursed each other through long days and nights of heavy sickness, when the angel of death seemed to hover at the door in indecision. They had passed through scenes of panic without display of fear. In tedious hours of convalescence they had exchanged confidences; the woman had spoken of her dear transfigured sorrow, and the man had spoken of those tender hopes which, in the winter of desolation, made music of spring within his heart. So they became as brother and sister, and enjoyed high friendship, serene and unperplexed by such sentiment as the order of their lives disallowed. That this is all true is amply proved by the joyous, sisterly interest which Miss Thomas took in the anticipations of Mr. Lewis’s marriage, by her part in the celebration of the event, and by her unfeigned sorrow in the pathetic sequel; all which things her letters most artlessly record.

But in addition to her high spirits, sober saintliness, and heroic courage, Miss Thomas was endowed with a full share of common sense. She was woman of the world enough to be aware that a young wife might not regard with perfect complacency such close comradeship as she and Mr. Lewis had enjoyed, and wisely prepared herself for some diminution of friendly intercourse, with ensuing access of loneliness. Happily this forecast of worldly wisdom was proved to be superfluous. Of course Miss Phillips had heard all about the friendship, and when she came, in the trustfulness of perfect love which casteth out fear, she straightway took Miss Thomas to her heart, claimed her as a sister, and enriched her life with that mystic gold which is incorruptible, getting back as much again in sweet commerce which flourished more and more through all the hurrying days of their brief friendship, even until its latest hour. This also Miss Thomas has movingly set down, as will presently appear.

It must be confessed that this chapter is concerned with other matters than a wedding and a funeral, but at this stage these two events have assumed a certain dominant interest in my mind, as the title indicates, and herein I expect to secure the sympathy of the reader.

The events recorded in the previous chapter had left the future of the English Mission at the Cameroons in grave uncertainty. Meanwhile the Baptist Missionary Society made representations to the German Government, protesting against the arbitrary and unjust behaviour of its agents, and demanding compensation for the destruction of its property; which compensation was never received. Pending unknown providential issues the work was continued as far as possible on the old lines. In January, 1885, Mr. Silvey returned to England, and Mr. Lewis and Miss Thomas were left alone in charge of the Mission at Bethel Station. Mr. Silvey was sorely missed, especially in the educational work. He had proved, as Miss Thomas testifies, “a capital schoolmaster,” and his departure necessitated new arrangements which added to her burdens. She took charge of his school, besides her own three classes. John Diboll, one of the native teachers, managed the Lower School, and Alfred Bell, the Infants. Miss Thomas ascribes her slow progress in Dualla to the fact that all her teaching was done in English. This pleased the people well, who were eager to obtain efficiency in the use of our tongue, and had complained that Miss Saker taught in Dualla. Miss Thomas wishes that she were able to incur the same criticism.

In a letter to Mrs. Hartland, which Mr. Silvey carried with him and posted in England, Miss Thomas writes: “It seems ages since I left England. I feel as though I had been in Africa all my life; and it is not so strange as I anticipated. I suppose and hope that our next excitement will be the arrival of Miss Phillips. I hear that Mrs. Lyall is coming with her, to see her husband’s grave, and then is going to labour as a missionary [at Calabar].”

The hoped-for excitement was long delayed. At the end of March Miss Thomas wrote again to Mrs. Hartland: “Mr. Lewis tells me to send his love to you, we often talk about you and about dear John, and he tells me all about his ‘intended.’ Poor man, he will be disappointed this mail again, for we hear she is not coming out until the next. It really is too bad as there have been plenty of opportunities lately. He says I cheer him up. I do my best, and he is not low-spirited at all. But it is very trying for him, and for her too. We have just had a visit from Mr. and Mrs. Hay. They came quite unexpectedly on their way back from Calabar, and stayed from Friday till Tuesday. They were both fairly well.... I am wondering whom you will get for pastor. How strange it must seem without dear Mr. Tucker! Give him my love if you ever see him.”

Late in April Miss Thomas records that she has been suffering from bilious fevers, and her friends must not be surprised by news of her return. Change is recommended, but she feels, in the circumstances of the Mission, it would be absurd to incur the expense of a trip south. The coming of the wet season, however, has brought hope of better health. Mr. Lewis has also suffered much from fever, but has patched himself up by going out in his boat. They are growing weary of awaiting the arrival of Miss Phillips and Mr. Fuller. If she does not come soon, it will scarcely be worth while for her to come at all, as Mr. Lewis’s return cannot be long postponed. Meanwhile they are both reasonably well, but the school work has suffered damage through their illness. Some Victoria people, arriving from the Congo, have brought the heavy news that three more missionaries have succumbed, and Miss Thomas wonders whether these casualties are due to the deadliness of the climate or to want of due care on the part of the victims. The letter continues:—

“The Sunday before last we had a baptism of nine converts here. I was so sorry to be in bed and unable to be present at the service. The work is very promising, I think, especially considering the many drawbacks it has had to contend with. Whatever society comes here after us will have a fine field to work in. Sometimes I can’t help wondering if it would not have been better to develope the work from here, with a good base station ready established, and native teachers to hand, than to begin the new work on the Congo. But, however, that is done, and I suppose the days of this Mission are numbered, as far as we are concerned.”

On May 13th Mr. Lewis wrote to Mrs. Hartland, at the request of Miss Thomas, to explain her own silence. She is recovering from another severe attack of bilious fever. When she fell ill Mr. Lewis was himself in bed; but the next day he was able to attend her. She is better, but not well enough to write. He proceeds: “We are now looking forward to the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Fuller, and I venture to hope that Miss Phillips will accompany them. We have had no definite news.

“You will have heard of the death of Mrs. Buckenham of Fernando Po. Mr. Buckenham brought her here on board the Volta three weeks ago, hoping she would get better. She could not come ashore, and died on the ship. Her remains are now lying in our graveyard, where she was buried the next day. Poor Mr. Buckenham has gone home in the Benguela. Things here are much as usual. The Germans are fairly quiet; but the natives are profoundly unsettled, and we do not know what they will do. A large number of them are in the bush; the rainy season is coming on, and they will be homeless. This is hard.

“We heard from Victoria yesterday, and the friends there are well. It is very evident that the Committee intend to relinquish this Mission. It is a great pity, and yet I believe it to be the best course. I have heard that the authorities are going to compel the teaching of German in our schools. I confess I would rather leave at once than Germanise these people. However, we trust that all will be for the best in the end.”

The year wore on with its round of duties varied by intervals of suffering—school-work, nursing, fevers—and the long-looked-for arrival of Miss Phillips was still in anticipation. At the end of August, however, it was known at Cameroons that she had sailed in the Lualaba, accompanied, not by Mr. and Mrs. Fuller, but by Mr. Comber, and a band of young missionaries, including his own brother Percy, whom he was joyously convoying to the Congo. And here I must interrupt the story for a moment to introduce the following significant little letter. It was addressed by Miss Thomas to her three nieces, the daughters of her sister, Mrs. Percival.

“Bethel Station, Cameroons.

“August 29, 1885.

“My dear Ethel, Eva and Beatrice,—I have written to Ethel already, but when I received your mother’s letter, with the good news it contained, I felt I must write to you, if only a few lines, to tell you how very glad I am to hear that all three of you have learnt to love the dear Saviour, and have come forward to confess His Name. Although I am so far from you, you may be sure I often think of you and pray for you, and I am so glad that you have chosen the right way thus early, and that all your lives will be given to His service. I hope that you will all become very useful Christians, and that each of you will in time find some direct work to do for the Master. But after all I feel more and more convinced that it is in the little things of everyday life we can best show our love to Him.

“That He may bless you all and keep you very near Himself, is the earnest prayer of

“Your loving aunt,

“Gwennie.”

“The excitement” which was looked for as imminent in January came in September. On the 10th news was received in Cameroons that the Lualaba was due at Calabar some few days later. For the rest of this chapter I leave the narrative to Miss Thomas, who shall tell, in her own words, of the burst of happy sunshine, and of its sudden dire eclipse, assured that her artless recital of the happenings, written only for the loving eyes of friends, with no faintest dream of publication, will be immeasurably more affecting than any studied treatment of my own.

On September 14th Miss Thomas sat down in the Mission House at Old Calabar and commenced a letter to Mrs. Hartland, accounting at the outset for her new address:—

“On Friday morning (this is Tuesday) the Loanda came into Cameroons with our mails, which included a letter from Mr. Comber telling Mr. Lewis that he was to meet Miss Phillips here. Their ship would arrive on Monday, so the only course open to him was to start off by the Loanda. He was worried about leaving me alone, as the time of return was uncertain, so I decided to accompany him and get a change. The steamer was timed to start on Saturday, but fortunately waited until Sunday morning, for we had invited John Pinnock for the wedding, and arriving on Saturday night he was able to come with us. We started early on Sunday morning, and as we were all seasick no one of us could laugh at the others. In the afternoon we reached Fernando Po, and went on shore to see Mr. and Mrs. Welford, who have taken the Buckenhams’ place there. The Spanish authorities are most arbitrary. We found that they had put Mr. Welford in prison, and that poor Mrs. Welford was sick. Of course she was delighted to see me and I stayed with her while Mr. Lewis and John obtained permission and went to visit her husband.”

“October 2nd. [Bethel Station, Cameroons.] So much has happened since I wrote the above, which you will like to hear, that I think I must send you a kind of diary, which you must please allow my sister, and any other interested friends, to read, as I cannot write it twice. Well, just after I had written the piece above we heard the Kroo-boys shouting, and knew that the Lualaba was coming up the river. [At Old Calabar on September 14th.] We rushed over to the Ludwigs to tell them, then returned, took a hurried meal, and as a storm was coming on got into thick dresses and mackintoshes and made haste down to the beach, where the others were waiting for us. Very soon we were on board the Lualaba. Mr. Lewis made his way to the ladies’ cabin, while I was receiving very warm greetings from Tom and Percy Comber. Then I was introduced to the others, and was very pleased to see such a nice band of young men, for they all seem nice. I do trust they may have good health. Then I went in to see Miss Phillips, with whom I felt at home immediately. We all went on shore together, took tea, inspected the Mission premises, and called on Mrs. Beadie, who was ill. We finished up the evening at Mrs. Ludwig’s. Miss Phillips stayed with me, and we slept together. Unfortunately I got fever in the night, which put an end to my going about. The next day we were to visit Creek Town, but Mrs. Lyall very kindly remained at home to look after me, and the next day also.

“I was much amused to have all the young missionaries coming in to see what African fever was like. Of course Percy was as playful as ever, and wanted to take my temperature about every half-hour. On Friday morning I was a little better, but still in bed, and the Redland, a small steamer, was timed to start for the Cameroons. So there was a grand discussion as to what was to be done with me. Mr. Lewis could not remain away any longer, but we did not like Miss Phillips to go on alone with him and John Pinnock, knowing what a place this is for talk. I begged to be allowed to return with them, so Mr. Lewis sent for Mr. Comber, and left him to decide. At first he would not hear of my going, but ultimately it was settled that I should do so, as Mrs. Lyall was willing to go too. So I was carried down to the beach in a hammock, Mr. Comber coming to see us off. At night a tornado broke upon us and Mrs. Lyall and I were very seasick. Miss Phillips kept well, and by the time we reached Cameroons we were all right. I have had no fever since.

“We received a very warm welcome from the people, who were full of curiosity to see ‘Mrs. Lewis.’ The next day was Sunday, and we rested quietly. On Monday Mr. Lewis went to make arrangements for the wedding, which had been fixed for the following day, but found that according to the German law three days’ notice must be given to all the white residents, which necessitated the postponement of the event until Saturday.... On Tuesday we all went to the Governor’s, as we were to be witnesses of the marriage. The authorities are very particular. Mrs. Lyall had to declare that she knew Miss Phillips had been sent out by the Society, and we were minutely questioned as to our names, ages, birthplaces, professions, and so on.

“On Wednesday we gave all our house children (and ourselves too) a treat by taking them for a picnic to Didumbari beach.”

There follows an account of the picnic, piquant and diverting enough, but too long to be inserted here. Thursday was a quiet day, but on Friday everybody concerned was cumbered with much serving in preparation for the long-looked-for rejoicing. The narrative continues:—

“We were determined to have as nice and home-like a wedding as was possible in our circumstances. To avoid work upon the day a cold breakfast was arranged. On Saturday the weather was most kind. The sun shone brightly, and everything looked beautiful. The marriage took place at Bethel Chapel at half-past nine. Miss Phillips, who looked charming in her bridal attire, wore a cream satin dress, very simply made, and a white hat trimmed with lace. A long spray of real orange-blossom encircled her neck, and she carried a bouquet of blue and white flowers culled from our garden. I wore my embroidered tussore, with the hat you sent out; and Mrs. Lyall, who acted as mother and gave her away, a thin black silk, with hat to match. The children all had new dresses, and each carried a new handkerchief, in which was tied up as much rice as it would hold. John performed the ceremony, and all the way home the happy pair were well pelted with rice. The breakfast was laid in my house, and the table really looked quite pretty with abundance of flowers, and the cake, decorated with ferns, which Mrs. Lyall had brought with her.

“Later in the day we went off in the boat to attend the civil marriage, and you would have laughed to see the undignified manner in which the bride and bride’s-maids secured their places. The tide was far out, and we were handed about from one man to another as if we were babies in long clothes. We called for Dr. Allen on our way, as he was to be one of the witnesses. When we arrived at Government House, we found the Governor (Baron Von Soden) and his secretary awaiting us in full uniform. We sat round a table, and when all the recorded particulars had been read over the bride and bridegroom were required to answer the question whether they really intended to contract matrimony by ‘a loud and distinct “yes”.’ Thereupon the Governor pronounced them to be ‘husbands together,’ which very nearly upset my gravity. He was translating as he went along. After the business was over, we were invited into the piazza, and the Governor brought out champagne to drink their healths.

“When our boat had started out for the marriage, the German House hoisted all their flags, an example which all the other traders followed, so that as we returned the river was gay with bunting, and all the flags were dipped in salute, before being taken down. I thought this very nice. Great interest was being shown in consequence of this being the first marriage of a white man in the river. The Germans were specially pleased that it was solemnised by German law. In coming back we had our single misfortune. One of the Kroo-boys who was carrying Mrs. Lyall slipped and dropped her into the water. Happily she took no harm, and only had to change her clothes and iron out her dress. Dr. Allen came to tea. Later we all went into the big house, and after supper and a chat Mrs. Lyall and I came back, leaving the bride in her new home. John Pinnock had to start for Victoria in the afternoon.

“Mrs. Lewis is so jolly and nice, I wish you had seen her. Mrs. Lyall returned to Calabar on Monday. She was much pleased with the Mission here and enjoyed her stay greatly. She said that prior to coming here she had not had a laugh since she came to Africa. She had plenty here, for we are a very merry party, I assure you. Since the wedding, we have settled down. I began school again on Tuesday. Last week we gave holiday in honour of the great event. Things are very happy here now, and we are just like one family. I go into the next house for dinner, and we always have tea together, taking turns. I am so glad Mrs. Lewis is so nice, for Mr. Lewis and I are exactly like brother and sister, and now I seem to have a sister, too. I have been wonderfully fortunate in having such kind friends, so that really I never feel lonely.... Two of my girls have gone to Mrs. Lewis. I have taken two new ones, and another is to come on Saturday. I really cannot take any more, as that will make fourteen. I wish I had a bigger house and room for a lot more. Many are begging to come. I was so glad to hear of you all from Tom Comber, but so sorry to hear that dear Mr. Tucker has lost his wife. He will miss her dreadfully. They always seemed so fond of each other. I think I must finish up now, with heaps of love to Lily, Alice, Mr. Hartland and yourself, from

“Yours lovingly,

“Gwen.”

Before the honeymoon was over the young bride had passed on to the Father’s house, with its many mansions, and its prepared place.

On October 27th Miss Thomas wrote again to Mrs. Hartland: “This letter I mean for my sister as well. I cannot write all I wish to say twice over. I hardly know how to tell you the news, it is so sad, so sudden, so unexpected. Dear Mrs. Lewis has gone to a better home than that which we had prepared for her. She passed away at about 5 p.m. this day week, Tuesday, 20th. I told you in my last letter how bright and merry she was, and how pleased with everything. We were so happy all together, just like one family. Breakfast was the only meal we took separately. I was as a sister to them in everything, and we were making plans for future work, so that we might not be separated. But as Grenfell said about dear John, ‘man proposes, but God disposes,’ and His ways are not our ways. Janie seemed so suitable to be a missionary’s wife, and was just getting into our African ways, beginning to understand the children in the house, taking a class in the Sunday School, coming to school once in the week with me, and helping me with the sewing at home.

“On Saturday, 17th, we went up the river to Jibarri with Mr. Lewis and Dibundu, who, after examining six candidates, baptized them in the river. We then sat down to the Lord’s Supper together. I do not think I ever enjoyed that solemn service more, although it was conducted in Dualla. It was so simple. There were only twenty-six present, in all; no communion plate, but just the common things we had with us. It was indeed a happy, holy time. And that was the last meal we took together.

“When we returned home I went to get tea, and coming back in a few minutes found Mrs. Lewis in fever. Of course I took her into her own house at once, and put her to bed in blankets; and from that time, until she died, she was never left without her husband or me. On Sunday her temperature fell to 101°, but rose later, and we could not bring it down again.... Still we were not alarmed, for the first fever is often very severe, as my own experience had proved. She had a bad night on Monday, and spoke then about dying, but on Tuesday morning seemed better. About 1 p.m. John Pinnock arrived unexpectedly from Victoria. She was so pleased to see him, and after talking a little said she thought she could sleep if we would all leave her, which we did. But very soon she felt the fever coming on again, and called her husband, and he put her into blankets. After dinner I went to sit with her, and about half-past three she said: ‘Gwen, I wish you would call Tom.’ I started to do so, but came back and said: ‘Are you getting low-hearted?’ She said: ‘No, but I don’t think I shall get over this, do you?’ I told her that I really thought she might, but would let her know if I came to think otherwise. Whereupon she said: ‘Very well, I won’t worry Tom by telling him.’ However, I took her temperature, and finding it to be 106·8°, I called Mr. Lewis, and told him what she had said. I then went to get her a cup of tea, and left them together.

“After my return she said: ‘I should have liked to live for your sake, Tom, and for mother and Katie, but I am not afraid and shall be happier there.’ She also said: ‘You will give Gwen my wedding brooch, won’t you?’ Soon after she became delirious, but still recognised us, turning from one to the other, and calling us by name. Just then Dr. Allen came to the beach, and she fell into a kind of coma, but while I had gone to meet him she roused again and said a few precious words to her husband. When we came into the room she was quite unconscious. Everything possible was done, but all was unavailing, and she passed away at five o’clock. Dr. Allen, who was very kind and attentive, says he never knew of such a case before.... She was very anxious that the friends at home should know that she had been so happy, and never regretted coming to Africa.

“We buried her the next morning, John Pinnock officiating, as he had done at the wedding three weeks earlier. His coming was providential. I think he was sent, for there was nothing very special to bring him, and his presence was a great comfort just then. We put the orange-blossoms in her coffin, and made a wreath from our garden. Afterwards, one of the German traders sent a beautiful wreath for the grave. We had a simple service in the chapel, which began with the singing of “Rock of Ages.” Then John read parts of 1 Cor. xv., and Rev. vii., and offered prayer. After this the first class schoolboys carried her to the grave, and we sang, ‘Hear what the voice from heaven proclaims.’ Then John concluded with prayer, and we left her to rest beside Mrs. Buckenham.

“It all seems like a dream. Her poor husband! It is terrible for him, but he bears it so bravely and patiently. I never knew any one else so patient. I am very thankful to have been here. We have been packing some of her things to send home. Many of her presents had been scarcely looked at, and most of her dresses were never worn. I feel so for her friends at home. This is the second child they have lost abroad, and she was very anxious about her mother’s health. I know how you will all sympathise with them and with us here. It has brought back so vividly to me all the sad time when dear John died.... I had grown so fond of her, and she was so kind to me. She brought me a beautiful little present, always called Mr. Lewis my brother; and however much we had been together in the daytime, they never failed to walk in about eight o’clock, saying, ‘We have come to say good-night to our sister.’ You will understand what a blow this has been to me, yet I am thankful to be keeping so well.

“I can’t think what they are going to do about sending some one to relieve us. Mr. Silvey does not mention returning, and Mr. Fuller says he sees no hope of it yet. Mr. Lewis will have been out three years in February, and has written saying he wishes to go home; and although I am anxious to remain as long as possible, I do not think it would be wise to stay too long, as I have had so many shocks since I came. Do not be too anxious about me, dears. I really take every care, and try to do my work quietly, having quite given up the rushing-about system, and in spite of everything am happy and content. I know you will pray for us that we may be strengthened and helped in the work here, and for poor Mr. Lewis that God may continue to help and comfort him.”

CHAPTER V
RETURN, MARRIAGE, AND JOURNEY TO CONGO. 1885-1887

No woman could pass through such experiences as had befallen Miss Thomas in Africa without incurring physical and mental strain which would render a prolonged stay perilous to life. Her recall was wisely determined upon, and in the middle of November she wrote to Mrs. Hartland of her return as decreed and imminent. On January 12, 1886, Mrs. Hartland wrote to Mr. Baynes requesting to be informed of the date of Miss Thomas’s arrival. Mr. Baynes was absent in Liverpool, but immediately upon his return replied that he had made inquiries of the secretary of the African Mail Company, and learned that the Ambriz had been telegraphed from Madeira, “All well,” but would not be in Liverpool for another week. Mr. Baynes also acknowledged the receipt of a letter from Mr. Lewis, enclosed by Mrs. Hartland, conveying the sad news of the death of Mrs. Wright Hay (formerly Miss Comber), following the birth of her child. It was the first intimation which had reached the Mission House, and Mr. Baynes says: “My colleague, Mr. Myers, communicated the sad intelligence to Mr. Comber within an hour of the receipt of your letter.” He adds: “May the Lord comfort and sustain Mr. Hay, and the sorrow-stricken family at home.”

Upon her return to England Miss Thomas commenced to keep a diary, as thousands of other young women have done at certain interesting periods of their lives. The note of distinction in her case is, that she continued to do what she had resolved to do. So it comes to pass that I have nearly a score of volumes of her journals about me as I write. The diary commences with the following entry:—

“Sunday, January 24th.—Arrived at Liverpool. Came to London by 11.30 train. Got to Hartland’s about five o’clock. Stayed all night. Had bilious attack. E. Jane [her sister, Mrs. Percival] and the children came to see me. They all look well.”

The first entry is typical, and for a year or two the diary amounts to no more than the barest indication of daily engagements. Sometimes the record is a single word, as, for instance, “Indoors.” Indeed, there were many days upon which the “awful cold” of the London winter made going out impracticable for one who had just come from the tropics. In later years the little pocket diary was succeeded by a bulkier volume, and the account of the day’s proceedings was more extended.

It was at this time that I became acquainted with Miss Thomas, and the reader will appreciate the touch of anxiety with which I turned to the next Sunday’s record, expecting to find some hint of her impressions of the new minister. For it was only two months earlier that I had succeeded the Rev. Francis Tucker, whom she loved so well, in the pastorate of Camden Road Church. Our friendship grew with the years, but I am grateful to know that my friend thought kindly of me from the first.

“Sunday, January 31st.—Went to Camden in the morning. Heard Mr. Hawker. Like him very much. Emma came in the afternoon, and Alice H. [Hartland] came to supper.”

Mrs. Percival’s residence, in which Miss Thomas found her temporary home, was but little distant from the church, and she attended many meetings and paid and received many visits, in which former associations were renewed and old friendships deepened. At an early date Miss Saker called and remained until the next day. The journal credibly relates that the writer and her guest “kept awake talking for long time.” In March Miss Thomas received a proposal of marriage, by letter. Her answer, declining it, was written on the morrow. During the spring and summer she frequently visited at her uncle’s house in Harrow, and once or twice made a lengthened stay. In April she went to Haverfordwest, to be the dear and welcome guest of Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, the parents of the late Mrs. Lewis; and while she was there Mr. Lewis arrived. The happiness of her visit to Wales was marred by illness. Both guests suffered from serious attacks of African fever, but were tenderly cared for by the friends of the girl-bride, whose passing away had involved them all in one great common sorrow. For Miss Thomas the visit lasted three weeks.

Thereafter the references to Mr. Lewis in the journal are more frequent. For some time, and throughout the May Meetings, which the two friends attended with keen interest, Mr. Lewis remains “Mr. Lewis.” But before “the merrie month” is over the entries give a hint of new conditions, as significant as the change of pronouns in the Acts of the Apostles. On Sunday night Miss Thomas attends Camden Road Church accompanied by “Mr. Lewis.” On Monday morning she meets “Tom” at the Mission House, and thereafter “Mr. Lewis” is dropped in favour of “Tom.” If Mr. Lewis were in London instead of in Kimpese, I should endeavour to persuade him to aid me in increasing the interest of this page. As it is, I am constrained to depend upon the diary, and turning over the pages I find the following pertinent records:—

“Sunday, July 4th.—Went to chapel twice. Communion in the evening. Stayed at Hartlands’. Told them about Tom and me.”

“Sunday, July 25th.—Went to the parish church [Harrow] in the morning. Bishop of G—— preached. Very poor sermon. Katie and Dora came to tea. I told them of my engagement.”

“Tuesday, August 10th.—Tom saw Mr. Baynes. So glad he approves.”

Early in the year Miss Thomas arranged for a short course of practical study at the Zenana Medical Home (or College) in St. George’s, E., of which Dr. Griffiths was principal. She went into residence in May, sharing a room with Miss Saker, and on Tuesday, May 25th, reported attending her first case. Her engagements at the Home permitted considerable freedom of movement, and she continued to visit friends and attend services at Camden Road, Spurgeon’s Tabernacle, and elsewhere.

Affectionate solicitude for her friend Mrs. Seymour occupied much of her time and involved many journeys across London. Mr. Seymour’s health had been broken for some years, and in the middle of May he died. His wife’s case was rendered the more pathetic by the fact that she was shortly expecting the birth of her third child. Miss Thomas was with her friend when this event occurred, some six weeks later, and it is not surprising that an early friendship, deepened by this passage through the Vale of Tears, held to the end. Miss Thomas’s letters to Mrs. Seymour—who, later, became Mrs. W. C. Parkinson—would alone have supplied ample material for a biography.

The engagement to Mr. Lewis gave the greatest satisfaction to many of her friends, and the late summer brought happy relaxations, including a stay at Deal. The Autumn Meetings of the Baptist Missionary Society were held in Bristol, and Miss Thomas and Mr. Lewis were required to be present, that, with other outgoing missionaries, they might have part in the valedictory service. For by this time it had been arranged that after their marriage Mr. Lewis and his bride would proceed to the Congo. In a letter written to Miss Lily Hartland from York, where she was paying a visit to her cousin, Miss Thomas gives a lively account of her Bristol experiences, and the story of her first day may be quoted:—

“We arrived at noon on Tuesday, went straight to Broadmead Chapel, left our luggage in the cloak-room there, and thence proceeded to get some dinner, meeting a good many Welsh friends on the way. As the afternoon sermon was to be preached in Tyndale Chapel, we set out to find it. Bristol is built on seven hills. One of these, Clifton, seems to be the ‘swell’ part of the town, and we found that Tyndale Chapel (Mr. Glover’s) is at the top of it. We got there long before the time of service, sat down against the railings, and studied the map to discover the whereabouts of our respective places of abode. Happily they were both fairly near, but a long way from Broadmead, where our luggage was left. While waiting outside, we met Mr. Phillips, who was very glad to see us, and came in with us to the service. The sermon, by Mr. Oswald Dykes, was very good; but I was rather too sleepy to appreciate it duly, for the chapel was packed to excess; pouring rain came on in the middle, and it became so dark that the gas had to be lighted. Mr. Ross sat in the same pew with us, and on coming out introduced me to his wife, whom we met several times after; she does seem nice.

“Outside, our problem was how to meet Mrs. Robinson. I heard afterwards that Mr. Baynes was shouting for me from the platform; but he was too late. However, we met Mr. Brown, who undertook to be my guide, while Tom raced down to send up the luggage. We met Mrs. Robinson with Mrs. Frank Smith just outside the house. The Robinsons are such nice people, evidently rich, but so very kind and friendly.

“After tea we drove down to the Colston Hall. Rain was still pouring. As Mr. Baynes wished me to sit on the platform, I had to go to the Committee-room. Being the only lady, I felt rather odd, especially as we filed on to the platform in Exeter Hall style. Colston Hall is an immense place, and was crowded as tight as could be. You will read the speeches, so that I need not report them. The meeting was most solemn, most of all Dr. Maclaren’s address, which I shall never forget. I was so thankful that, though I was tired, for the day had been a very long and exciting one, I was quite well and had no headache.”

The valedictory meetings of the Baptist Missionary Society have long been remarkable for their impressiveness. The meeting at Bristol remains among the most remarkable. I was present, and have no doubt that its influence would count as a constant inspiration in the lives of the departing missionaries. The valedictory address, delivered by Dr. Maclaren, which Mrs. Lewis affirmed that she would never forget, was a great utterance. The speaker had reached, but had not passed, the zenith of his powers. The occasion appealed to him, and commanded all the resources of his genius and intensity. One sentence only I could quote from memory: “If you want to drive a pointed piece of iron through a thick board, the surest way to do it is to heat your skewer.” The pronunciation of the word “skewer” was as extraordinary as the choice of it, and half achieved the miracle of changing a mere vocable into a thing of iron, pointed and red-hot.

I have read over again the printed report of the address, and have felt over again the thrilling force imparted to its periods by “the sound of a voice that is still.” The points were: “Have ever clear before you the ultimate object of your work”; “Be enthusiasts”; “Cherish a boundless hope in the possibilities of your work”; “Live in close communion with your Lord.” The hearing of such an address in an emotional hour is a biographical incident of first-rate importance, and I hold that I shall be minding my own business in reproducing its opening and closing passages.

“Dear Brethren and Sisters, you are here this evening probably never to meet again till you give an account of your stewardship. A momentary association in this hall will be followed by a wide separation to strangely different conditions of work. As Rome’s eagles parted at the city gates to march east, west, north, and south, pushing forward in every quarter the boundaries of the Empire, you go forth to bear the dove of peace farther than Rome’s eagles ever flew....

“And now, dear friends, the languages of many nations have different forms of leave-taking. We would say to you with the Hebrew, ‘Peace be unto you,’ the peace of conscious communion, the calm of a quiet heart, the rest of faith, the tranquillity of submission, be ever yours. We would say with the Greek, ‘Rejoice’ with the joy which may blossom amidst sorrow, like the blue and delicate flowers which blossom on the very edge of the glacier—the joy which Christ Himself has connected with keeping His commandments, and abiding in His love, the joy of the Lord into which faithful followers even here may enter. We would say with the Roman, ‘Be strong,’ strong with the strength of those who wait upon God, and, therefore, mount up with wings as eagles in contemplation, who can run without weariness in occasional spurts of severe effort, and can walk without fainting along the monotonous dusty road of petty duties. We would say in our own familiar English, only venturing to put it in its enlarged and proper form, ‘God be with you!’ May He, whose presence makes the solitary place glad as with a sudden burst of light, be always with you. May He be with you for your wisdom and your success, for your shield and exceeding great reward. We wish you peace, joy, strength. But our highest wish is that which includes them and a whole universe besides: Farewell, and God be with you.”

Mr. Lewis and Miss Thomas were married in Camden Road Baptist Church, on Wednesday, December 1, immediately prior to the opening of the Annual Congo Sale. Under normal circumstances the Sale, which is something of a festival, would have added brightness to the wedding. But the sky was overclouded for Sale and wedding. It had been arranged, most naturally and happily, that the ceremony should be performed by the Rev. Francis Tucker, who had been the bride’s minister from her childhood, and whom she regarded with reverent and filial affection. But when the wedding-day came his eloquent lips had been touched by the great silence, and two days later his coffin was carried down the aisle of the church in which he had ministered for twenty-seven years, on its way to the grave. So it fell to my lot to conduct the marriage service. Of course if I had known that twenty-four years later I should be writing the biography of the bride, I should now be able to supply a reasonably interesting account of an hour so momentous in the life of my friend. I could not know. I have been told that she was married from the house of her sister, Mrs. Percival, but all that I can recall unaided is, that she was “given away” by the Rev. John Jenkyn Brown, of Birmingham, and that Mr. Lewis went away in my overcoat. His case was worse than mine; for whereas in his coat I had room and to spare, in mine he was in straitened circumstances. When he was again capable of observing matters so prosaic, he was prompt to repair the blunder. The consequences were not serious, but rather the reverse, for the humorous reminiscence has many times provoked laughter.

Perhaps it was well that the event should have one touch of humour, for the atmosphere was inevitably sombre. Conscious of my own poverty of remembrance, I consulted a friend who would be likely to help me. She looked up her diary and found the following: “Wedding; Congo Sale; 2.30. The most dismal wedding I was ever at.” I forbore further quest of detail, and make haste to say that if the wedding was “dismal” the union which it celebrated was one of rare and radiant happiness which remained unclouded till its earthly close.

The first two months of 1887 were busy with meetings, journeys, including a tour in South Wales, and the usual necessary preparations for a long stay abroad. On Thursday, March 3rd, a farewell meeting was held in Camden Road Church, and on the following Wednesday, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis sailed from Liverpool for the Congo, their particular station being as yet undetermined.

At Old Calabar they found to their great regret that they had just missed meeting Mr. and Mrs. Grenfell, who had passed them in the ss. Nubia, homeward bound. Victoria, and Bethel, Cameroons, were also visited. Early in May, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis reached Underhill and learned that they were to work in San Salvador. Mrs. Lewis was disappointed in her first impressions of the Congo, the aspect of the country being oppressively barren after the luxuriance of the Cameroons. She and her husband were also saddened by news of more deaths. But they were eager for their work, and on May 10th started inland for San Salvador. The remainder of this chapter will be occupied with Mrs. Lewis’s diary of the journey.

“Tuesday, May 10, 1887.—We started from Underhill Station at 2.30. Our men were sent on before to a town called Vunda, where they were to pitch the tent for the night. The caravan consisted of thirty-five carriers—eight for my hammock, six for the hammock used in turn by Mr. Phillips and Mr. Lewis, and the rest for loads—Malevo, who was our interpreter, Mpombolo, who was our cook, two personal boys, my Cameroon girl Marian, and ourselves. Mr. Scrivener took us in a boat to Noki, where we disembarked. I got into my hammock and the others followed on foot. We soon reached the bottom of a steep hill, where Mr. Scrivener said goodbye, and returned. It was dreadful work for the hammock-bearers to get up this hill. Most of the time I was nearly perpendicular. They stumbled once but did not let me down. The country here is a succession of steep and barren hills.

“We arrived at Vunda about six o’clock, just as it was getting dark. Here we met another caravan from San Salvador with letters from Messrs. Weeks and Graham, reporting all well and welcoming us. The Underhill boys were sent back, and we went on with those from San Salvador. After prayers, we retired to bed at eight o’clock. The mosquitoes were very bad. Mr. Phillips slept in a native house.

“Wednesday, 11th.—We got up at four-thirty and had breakfast in our tent by candle light. The morning was very damp, but as I was wrapped up for the journey in a waterproof sheet and had a waterproof rug for awning, I did not get wet. It amuses the people very much to see Mr. Lewis lift me into the hammock. The carriers object to stooping, so I am lifted in and tucked up in rug and rainsheet. Soon after starting we encountered a very steep hill, but as the path was wide, I was carried up comfortably sideways. On our way we passed a market where the people all screamed out on seeing me, ‘Mundele ankento’ (a white woman), and were delighted when I pulled back the awning and looked out. We reached our next camping-place, a little town with a big name, Kingonde a miezi, about 10 a.m. Here also I was an object of interest and wonder, as Mrs. Weeks was the only white woman they had ever seen before, and she was very ill as she passed through on her way home.

“Thursday, 12th.—We started early. The road to-day is much smoother, and now and then we come upon pretty patches of tropical vegetation. We have seen a great number of brilliant birds, red, with black rings about their necks. The road being smoother, the carriers took me along at a brisk run, and I suffered a severe shaking up. They make the most fearful noises when running, to keep up their spirits. About 10.30 we came to a large plateau where we were to camp for the day. There were few trees, and it reminded me of Hampstead Heath, only it was flat. We managed to find one tree which afforded a little shade, and sat under it until the others came up. Mr. Phillips was suffering with a touch of fever, and had his travelling bed set up until the tents were ready. We have Mr. Weeks’ tent which is a large one, with a small room behind in which Marian sleeps. It was dreadfully hot all day, and we were glad to retire to our tents. In some respects it is pleasanter to camp out than to stay in a town. One is tired after a journey and does not desire to be stared at for the remainder of the day.

“Friday, 13th.—Last night we were much disturbed by the carriers, who, having no other shelter, got under the fly of our tent, and spent the greater part of the night in telling Congo tales. After very little sleep, we rose and had breakfast by moonlight. Mr. Phillips, still feeling poorly, took the hammock most of the way. We crossed one or two small streams and passed through some splendid scenery. A tree covered with bright scarlet blossoms, and some magnificent boulders, balanced one on another, specially attracted my attention.

“About 9 a.m. we came to a place where some women appeared with ‘chop,’ ready cooked, for sale. Although we wanted very much to get on the men insisted on buying; so we got out of our hammocks and sat on a rock while they took their refreshment. After making another start we reached Lombo town. There the hammock men made a stand, determined to wait for Mr. Lewis. At this place a kind of play is performed by which it is hoped to frighten strangers. Men called ‘Nkimba,’ smeared all over with white stuff, and wearing petticoats of grass, rush out, make whirring noises, and screech horribly. However, seeing two white men, they did not come very near to us.”

“About 11 a.m. we halted at Kiunga, a small, wretched place where the people were exceedingly troublesome. It was some time before the tent men arrived, and we had to sit under the eaves of a native house and take our ‘chop.’ Having a severe headache, Mr. Phillips retired into the native house in which he was to sleep, and lay down to rest. Mr. Lewis fell asleep in his chair. In the meantime the chief, who was absent when we arrived, returned. Seeing us he ran up, shook hands with me, and having shaken up Mr. Lewis went into the house, and in spite of the boys’ protest insisted upon waking Mr. Phillips. After this he brought us some palm wine. It was refreshing, but I do not care for it. Later, having fallen asleep, I was rudely awakened by some one shaking me, and shrieking something in Portuguese. It was another man who had just come home and was decidedly the worse for drink. Of course, I had to smile and shake hands with him. Mr. Lewis had retired to our tent. I followed him, but both he and Mr. Phillips had to submit to the same process. We were all very tired, and it was very hot, but there was no rest for us that afternoon. We were just beginning to enjoy a little quiet, when a number of men appeared at the tent door, gesticulating and talking loudly, several of them having obviously had too much to drink. They spoke Portuguese, and upon sending for Lembwa we found they were insisting that we should give them gin. It was long before we could be rid of them. At tea-time they returned clamouring for sugar. As we were short of that article, we put them off by allowing them to have a drink of tea all round, which not being sweet they did not like. We were glad when the time came for bed, though even there we had little rest, for the mosquitoes were dreadful in spite of curtains.

“Saturday, 14th.—We started early, as usual, and left Kiunga without regret. Hence to San Salvador the track runs mostly through long grass. It is from twelve to twenty feet high, and so thick and strong that the carriers had hard work to pull the hammock through. In the early mornings the dews were so heavy that the water was running off the hammock-pole, and Mr. Lewis and Mr. Phillips were wet to the skin. We reached Kongo dia Ntinu about 10.30. I arrived some time before the others, alighted from the hammock, and sat on the cushions in the shade of a house. Here the people did not venture near me at first, but sat at a respectful distance, staring with all their might. When our ‘chop’ box arrived we found, on opening it, that the bottle containing butter had been broken, and that consequently everything was bathed in oil. We managed to save a little, but must needs take everything out, as milk, tea-leaves, butter, and salt were well mixed together. A man here brought a queer little animal for sale. It was quite tame and the boys declared it would make good ‘chop.’ After some discussion, we decided that it was an ant-eater. Mr. Phillips bought it as a pet, but since our arrival at San Salvador it has disappeared. Kongo dia Ntinu is a clean town, and a nice native house was placed at our service, which we found much cooler than the tent in the afternoon. While walking in the town we came upon some splendid lime trees growing wild and laden with fruit; also some guava trees. We refreshed ourselves from the latter, and gathered a lot of limes to take with us. I should have mentioned that our new pet received the honoured name of ‘Jeremiah.’

“Sunday, 15th.—It was not considered advisable to make a halt on Sunday, so we started as usual. The height of the grass made it impossible for my carriers to turn, so I was carried up hills with head where my feet ought to be, a posture which was not productive of pleasant sensations. At the foot of one hill I had to alight to cross a small stream, and as I happened to be ahead of the others I did not relish the prospect of getting in again on the slope of such a steep hill, so I ventured to walk up with the assistance of Lembwa’s climbing-stick. But my husband and Mr. Phillips shook their heads so gravely over my imprudence that I did not dare to repeat the exploit.

“To-day we crossed a river called the Lusu, which is bridged by a few branches of trees, twisted and tied together. It was rather awkward, but we took off our boots and got over safely. On this side we were detained for some time by a long palaver about paying toll for the use of the bridge. When this was settled the chief ‘dashed’ us a goat, for which we returned about twice its value in cloth. We then resumed our journey. At most of the towns they ‘dashed’ us fowls, and sometimes one of the women would bring me something special. Just before arriving at Mongo Kongo, where we camped to-day, we had to cross a small stream, in doing which Mr. Lewis sat down in the middle, and was carried into camp in a sopping condition, as his boots were off and shared the immersion. He had to sit, minus some of his garments, wrapped up in a rug in a native house till the man arrived with his bag. We passed through some lovely bits of forest to-day, but the greater part is not what we understand by ‘tropical.’